Double The Baggins, Twice The Took
by fogisbeautiful
Summary: The Baggins twins, Briallen and Bilbo, have spent their whole lives taking care of each other. So when the world outside makes an (uninvited) appearance only one thing is certain. Not for wizard or king or mountain or DRAGON will the two of them part. Not if they have one word to say about it. And besides, Gandalf points out: It never hurts to have a spare burglar on hand.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** I've been holding this back for a couple of years now and I can't stand it anymore, it deserves to see the light of day! I have far too many projects I'm working on, so I don't know how often it will be updated, but I'm going to do my best to get it out there! Enjoy!

 **Tags:** Slow Burn, Family Dynamics, Mentions of the Fell Winter, Mentions of Frerin, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Hobbit Culture & Customs, Background Relationships

* * *

 **Chapter One**

Briallen Baggins was about to throw a trowel. Most likely in the direction of her brother's curly head.

She knew, of course, that wasn't really fair. It wasn't Bilbo's fault that she had no skill at gardening. Nor was it his fault that, despite this knowledge, she insisted on digging in the garden anyway, promptly ruining the flower beds which were now wilting quite spectacularly almost before her very eyes. And yet, as she tried with all her might to salvage this unmitigated disaster, Brie found she could not quite help but resent the fact that her beloved twin brother was just sitting there, blowing smoke rings on the front bench and looking perfectly content in the cheerful mid-morning sun.

Yes. A well-placed trowel to the back of the head would make her feel much better, she was sure of it.

She had just lifted a hand to plot a (hypothetical, of course) trajectory for her current choice of gardening implement, when she noticed an unusually tall, gray-robed figure in a ridiculous pointed hat wandering up the path. Brie lowered her trowel and brushed aside a dark golden curl that had come loose from the long braid down her back, watching with open curiosity as the stranger continued steadily up the hill and stopped just outside their gate, leaning on a gnarled wooden staff before Bilbo's lounging figure, clearly waiting to be acknowledged. But all Bilbo did was puff lazily on his pipe, carefully sending one perfect smoke ring wafting into the air without so much as a word. Obviously he had not noticed the stranger, which meant of course that Brie was going to have to be the sociable one. How very unfortunate, both for herself and for their unexpected guest.

She sighed and stood, shaking out her dingy yellow work dress and bracing herself for the tedious responsibility of "small talk". But before she could utter a word of greeting, the stranger waved his hand carelessly in front of her brother's smoke ring, which then swirled and reformed itself into an exquisite, fluttering moth that turned gracefully in midair...

...and smacked Bilbo squarely in the face.

A burst of laughter escaped Brie before she could throw a hand over her mouth to stifle it, drawing the attention of the old man just long enough for a mischievous smirk to turn up the corners of his lips. Then his eyes were back on her brother, watching with an amused tilt of his head as Bilbo coughed and sputtered and finally regained both his breath and his manners.

"Good morning," Bilbo said, sitting up properly now and eying the stranger dubiously.

Their gray visitor's bushy eyebrows knitted together in a perplexed frown.

"What do you mean?" he said, his voice at the same time gruff and melodic, "Do you mean to wish me a good morning, or do you mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not? Or perhaps you mean to say that you feel good on this particular morning. Or are you simply stating that this is a morning to be good on?"

"I... All... all of them at once... I suppose." Bilbo stuttered, looking slightly bewildered.

The old man hmphed, and then flicked his eyes back to Brie, as if waiting to see if she could provide him with a better answer. She opened her mouth and then promptly closed it again, completely at a loss. Words were her brother's area, not hers. If Bilbo could not make sense of the stranger's nonsense, she would certainly have no better luck. The visitor hmphed again and returned his attention to Bilbo, who was eying the stranger with considerable suspicion.

"Can I help you?" Bilbo asked.

"That remains to be seen," he muttered almost to himself, gripping his staff and leaning down as if to whisper conspiratorially, though he was loud enough that Brie could hear him quite clearly.

"I am looking for someone to share in an adventure."

* * *

 _An adventure_ , he'd said...

Brie could feel the awful word resonating even now, hours later in the kitchen as she furiously attacked the ingredients in her mixing bowl, hardly noticing the globs of herb muffin dough that managed to flee to the counter top and escape her wrath. Bilbo had gone out to the market for fresh fish, hoping that the walk would settle his understandably rattled nerves.

An adventure! What a ridiculous... Of all the... What made that...? Taking her brother on an adventure?! Who did this Gandalf character think he was anyway? Bilbo wouldn't last a single day on his own in the great wide world. It was preposterous!

 _"To think that I should have lived to be good morning'd by Belladonna Took's son..."_

Mother... What would Mother think? What would Mother say?

Brie flung spoonfuls of dough into the muffin tin and shoved it into the oven, perhaps a bit more forcefully than was strictly necessary. Mother wasn't here. And thanks to her, neither was Father for that matter. It was just Brie and Bilbo. And she would be... well, she would be _damned_ if she was letting some old wizard swan off with her brother. No sir. Not if she had a word to say on the matter.

* * *

A few hours later, sitting down to a nice dinner of roast fish and (slightly blackened) herb muffins, Bilbo appeared to have put the wizard's visit quite out of his mind. All that easy-going Baggins temperament, such encounters rolled off him like water off a duck's back. Brie was both grateful and jealous. She still had not been able to quite let the matter rest.

An adventure... Of all the ridiculous notions...

Brie was in the process of passing Bilbo the basket of muffins, when the doorbell rang. They both paused and stared at each other over the table.

"I didn't invite anyone," Bilbo said, "Did you?"

"Don't be ridiculous, who would I invite over at this time of the evening?" Brie said, "Or for that matter, ever?"

It was a good point and Bilbo knew it. He sighed and rose, tossing his napkin haphazardly on the table.

"Best go see who it is then," he said, rather resignedly.

"If it is that deplorable Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, I swear by the Green Mother and all her relations, I'm going to..."

"Language, Brie!" Bilbo admonished, "It can't be as bad as all that."

But it was.

No, in fact, it was worse.

* * *

Dwarves. An... an absolute _gaggle_ of dwarves!

Brie might have been alright if it had just been the one (even with the axes and the terrible table manners). Or even perhaps just the two (at least the elder one had a kind smile and an air of civility).

But it had only gotten worse from there, and soon Brie and Bilbo found themselves run nearly ragged trying to maintain some semblance of order as more and more dwarves (and one distinctly _unapologetic_ wizard) turned up at the door and began a thorough raiding of the pantry.

"Excuse me!"

"Put that back!"

"Not the jam, please!"

Brie squeaked and just managed to skip out of the way as a very fat dwarf lumbered by with three wheels of cheese stacked in his arms.

"A... tad excessive, isn't it?" Bilbo said, wringing his hands helplessly, "Have you got a cheese knife?"

"Cheese knife?" said a hatted dwarf, appearing with a grin at Bilbo's elbow, "He eats it by the block."

Brie thought that was just... Wait, did that dwarf just _wink_ at her brother?!

But that was when Grandpa Mungo's chairs started to appear, and the younglings burst in carrying a very large barrel of ale between them, and soon it was all Brie could do to keep her feet while Gandalf began counting heads and mumbling names under his breath.

"Fili, Kili... Oin and Gloin... Dwalin, Balin... BifurBofurBombur... Dori, Nori, Ori..."

Brie made a desperate attempt to put faces to the names and in the process nearly ran into one of the creatures, this one with wild black hair and... and an axe in his head. She yelped and jumped back, colliding with another dwarf leaning in the archway, splashing his mug of ale straight down the front of his jacket.

"Oh gracious, I'm terribly sorry!" she said.

The burly, tattooed creature (the first dwarf, Dwalin maybe?) grunted and brushed at the jacket carelessly.

"No harm done, lass, there's more where that came from."

It took a moment for Brie to regain enough wits to realize he was talking about the ale from _her_ cellar, but before she could muster up her indignation, she heard Gandalf muttering, almost to himself.

"Yes, you're quite right, Bifur. We appear to be one dwarf short."

"He is late is all," Dwalin said to the wizard, "He traveled North to a meeting of our kin. He will come."

"Another one?!" Brie cried, putting her hands on her hips, "Wherever shall we put him?"

But no one seemed to be paying her any mind. It felt like hours since anyone had paid her any mind in fact, and Brie was starting to feel a tad irritated about it. She wouldn't consider herself a needy hobbit, not one to require too much attention, but blast it all, she was being run into the ground in her _own house_! It was enough to make one stomp one's foot.

"Mr. Gandalf? A little glass of red wine, as requested."

Brie turned and nearly fell over. The dwarf in question (Mori, was it? Or maybe Dori, yes, that sounded right...) held two glasses of what looked to be one of her best red wines. Gandalf took one of the glasses with a gracious smile and Brie could feel a hot fury rising up and filling her chest. She bunched her fists at her sides and thought she just might be on the verge of a breakdown, when the dwarf turned and offered her the other glass.

"And one for the gracious hostess, of course," he said, in the most prim and proper manner anyone could wish for, before he leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, "You looked as if you might need it, dear."

Brie opened her mouth, and then shut it again, at a complete loss for words. Granted, it was her own wine and she really shouldn't feel in the least bit grateful for it, but all the same she took the glass and smiled, feeling her simmering indignation die down just a touch.

"Thank you very much," she managed to say with very little hint of the flustered emotions warring inside her at the moment.

Gandalf smiled widely and raised his own glass to her, which looked quite tiny in his over-sized hand.

"Cheers then!" he said.

Brie glared at the wizard before she tipped back her glass and had the whole thing in one gulp.

* * *

"Confound and confusticate these dwarves!" Bilbo muttered, folding and unfolding a crocheted doily in his fidgeting fingers.

Brie was nursing her second glass of wine and feeling considerably better about the entire situation. She had given up on any possibility of finding out what exactly was supposed to be going on, and once she'd decided that, she found that the dwarves were not half so bad as she'd supposed at first. They were loud and quite obnoxious, but they were not particularly _rude_ (at least not in any way that might be construed as intentional). Besides, it had been a long time since there had been a proper party at Bag End and, as impromptu as this was, Brie could not help but enjoy it a bit.

"Oh they're quite a merry gathering!" Gandalf insisted as two of the creatures ran by, tugging a chain of sausages between them, "Once you get used to them."

"I like them," Brie declared, taking another sip of her wine.

"You would," Bilbo muttered, but Brie ignored him.

"How long will they be staying?" she asked the wizard politely.

"Oh not long I should imagine, just for the night," Gandalf said.

"The night?!" Bilbo squeaked, "Whatever are we to do with them?"

"Oh I'm sure we can figure out something..." Brie mused, swirling her wine in her glass thoughtfully as she tried to remember the last time she'd aired out the guest bedrooms and how many spare pillows they actually had...

"Figure out... Have you gone mad?!" Bilbo hissed, grabbing Brie's elbow and tugging her into the hallway, sloshing out quite a bit of her wine in the process. She was going to need another glass sooner than she'd thought. Bilbo was still sputtering indignantly.

"...the state of the kitchen! There's mud trod into the carpet, they've pillaged the pantry! Not to mention what they've done in the bathroom; they've all but destroyed the plumbing! Brie, are you even listening to me? What are they doing in our house?!"

"Excuse me?"

Brie and Bilbo both turned. A smaller dwarf, one of the younger ones it looked like, was standing in the hallway, a sweet, innocent expression on his face. Brie wondered how in the world Bilbo could possibly stay angry after looking at that face, but stay angry he did.

"Excuse me," the dwarf said again, "I'm sorry to interrupt, but what should I do with my plate?"

Before either Baggins could reply, another of the younger dwarves (Fili? Or Kili? She'd gotten those two quite mixed up.) seemed to appear out of nowhere.

"Here you go, Ori, give it to me."

The blonde dwarf took Ori's plate and weighed it thoughtfully in his hand. Then he caught Brie's eye and, with a wink and a grin, sent the plate zipping through the air and into the waiting hands of the other young dwarf who happened to be standing at the end of the hall. He, in turn sent it flying into the kitchen, where (from the distinct lack of a shattering sound) Brie assumed it had been caught by someone else. Or at least, she hoped it had. Bilbo cried out in alarm.

"Excuse me, that's my mother's West Farthing crockery, it's over a hundred years old!"

But it was too late. Dishes were already flying about over their heads as the other dwarves quickly caught on to the game, the distinct hint of a rhythm beginning to develop from the pounding of boots on the floor and fists on the table, accompanied by the unmistakable sound of utensils clanging together.

"Could you not do that?" Bilbo fussed, "You'll blunt them!"

"Oooh, d'ya hear that, lads?" said the hatted dwarf with a cheeky grin, "He says we'll blunt the knives!"

And therein followed the most rambunctious, wild, ridiculous song Briallen had ever heard outside of Bree. She didn't think even the drunks at the Green Dragon could have come up with something quite so mad.

"Blunt the knives, bend the forks

Smash the bottles and burn the corks

Chip the glasses and crack the plates...

That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!"

"Cut the cloth and tread on the fat

Leave the bones on the bedroom mat

Pour the milk on the pantry floor...

Splash the wine on every door!"

"Dump the crocks in a boiling bowl!

Pound them up with a thumping pole

When you've finished, if any are whole...

Send them down the hall to roll!"

Of course the dwarves did none of these dreadful things, or the song would not have been quite as much fun. Brie quickly lost Bilbo in the organized chaos that followed, ducking and spinning and generally just trying to stay out of the way. At one point she found herself caught up in the large hands of a dwarf with star-shaped hair and (before she could squeal any kind of a protest) swung gracefully out of the path of a flying saucer. Before she could even thank him, someone else grabbed her up and swung her again, and suddenly she was being passed from hand to hand, quite like one of the crockery, until she somehow found herself back in the kitchen and spun up onto the table, squarely among the neat stacks of clean, dry dishes.

"THAT'S WHAT BILBO BAGGINS HATES!" the dwarves roared, dissolving into a raucous chorus of laughter just as Bilbo burst into the kitchen.

It was only then that Brie realized she was grinning, because when Bilbo caught her eye, he crossed his arms and glared pointedly at her, as if she had arranged the entire display herself. Which was completely ridiculous and Brie had just crossed her own arms and opened her mouth to spout something scathing when...

Three loud knocks on the door. The house fell silent.

"He is here." Gandalf said.

* * *

 _Oh..._ Brie thought, _Oh my..._

The dwarf currently standing in the front hall of Bag End was not quite like the others. He was about the right height to be sure, and had the same stocky build of course, but there was something... _more_ about him, something in the way he held himself, that quite certainly set him apart. Brie felt a bit giddy watching him from the parlor doorway, and she wasn't entirely sure it was from the wine.

Thorin Oakenshield. Even his name sounded like more than just a name.

"Tell me, Mr. Baggins, have you done much fighting?"

Brie blinked. Bilbo stuttered.

"Pardon me?"

The dwarf circled her brother, bright blue eyes assessing and calculating. With each measured step Brie could feel her hackles rising. Just what in all the...?

"Axe or sword? What's your weapon of choice?"

"Well, I do have some skill at conkers, if you must know," Bilbo answered looking as flummoxed as Brie felt, "But I fail to see how that's relevant."

Thorin Oakenshield paused, staring down his nose at Bilbo. Brie gritted her teeth, but remained silent.

"Thought as much," he smirked, "He looks more like a grocer than a burglar."

The other dwarves all laughed like this was incredibly funny, and oh, just _oh!_ It was too much, _too much_ for Brie's Took pride to bear. She put her hands on her hips and planted herself in the archway just as the great dwarf turned, almost running her over before he noticed her. To her credit, Brie didn't even flinch.

"And just _what_ , pray tell, is wrong with grocers?" she snapped, poking a finger to his broad chest, "You lot seem to like food well enough. Who do you think provides it? Or are you just daft enough to believe it falls from the sky?"

A heavy silence fell over the house. Thorin Oakenshield glowered down at her with those piercing blue eyes and it took all of Brie's Tookish fury (and only a little help from the wine) to hold herself up under that withering gaze. But hold up she did, matching the brute's heated glare. She would not stand by and let him come into _her_ house, eat _her_ food, and insult _her_ family without a little bit of a push back. She simply wasn't Baggins enough to allow it.

"And who," he said, his voice little more than a low growl, "is this?"

"Ah, forgive me, where are my manners?" Gandalf said cheerfully, as if there was not a glaring contest commencing right under his very nose, "This is Briallen Baggins."

There was another long pause while the dwarf stared at her, his eyes running the length of her short frame, taking in her long, loose curls, her forest green dress (and she was quite thankful she'd decided to change out of that faded yellow!), all the way down to her fuzzy toes and back. Brie tried to remain focused on her anger, but it was really quite unnerving being assessed in such a way. She wanted to grab one of his black braids and tug to get his eyes back up where they belonged. She was certainly not an object to be appraised in a glance.

His gaze finally came back to rest on her face and...

He _smirked_ again! Oh... that... that... _dwarf!_ Oh, she was going to...

Her hands bunched into fists at her sides and she opened her mouth, ready to fire off a long string of insults that was likely to make her father roll in his grave, but before she could gain breath to speak...

"Mr. Baggins, is your wife likely to be joining us at table? I would like fair warning before we begin negotiations."

Stunned. There was no other word for it. Briallen Baggins stood in the hallway with her mouth half open, completely stunned. It took her perhaps a full two minutes to gather her wits again. It took Bilbo a little less, but he was nothing but a babbling mess at this point, his words tripping over themselves in an effort to form a coherent sentence. Brie shook herself out of her daze and spook over him.

"Mr. Baggins neither owns me nor controls my actions, Master Dwarf," she said, crossing her arms over her chest, her glare smoldering, " _Our_ parents left us this house in equal shares. While under its roof, I will do as I like."

She made sure to put special emphasis on the phrase " _our_ parents". The dwarf might have been rude, but he certainly wasn't stupid. He quickly and clearly realized his mistake and scowled in what Brie could only assume was embarrassment. She felt no sympathy for him whatsoever. Her own glare did not subside one bit.

Finally, after several moments, Thorin inclined his head politely, though not, it seemed, very willingly.

"My apologies, Miss Baggins," he said, only the barest hint of a glower in his voice, "I hope you can forgive the misstep so that our business may continue."

"Oh the misstep is certainly forgiven," said Brie, "As to your business, I suppose that remains to be seen."

They glared at each other for another long moment. But Thorin quickly conceded the contest and swept past her with an air of haughty injured pride. It served him very right, the arrogant sod. Brie stomped off to the kitchen without a backward glance. She needed another glass of wine.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Wow! Thank you guys so much for the HUGE response to this story! I only hope I can continue to live up to the lovely comments you've left! :) Enjoy the next chapter!

* * *

 **Chapter Two**

"You want him to _what?_ "

Brie stared around the table of dwarves, feeling the fluttered beginnings of panic.

"It's quite simple really," Bofur piped up, using his hands for extra emphasis, "We trot on off to Erebor, find this hidden doorway into the mountain, your brother scampers himself down inside, takes a quick look 'round, burgles the Arkenstone, and then runs, just as fast as he can, back up topside before the dragon's any the wiser. It's as easy as that!"

Brie stared at the hatted dwarf for a moment. She was suddenly glad that they had run out of wine, because otherwise she wasn't sure if she'd have been able to keep her wits. She was feeling awfully light-headed as it was.

A dragon. They wanted her brother to go traipsing off into the blue after a... a blasted _dragon!_ It was... It was insane. Utterly preposterous. Completely ludicrous!

She felt sorry for the dwarves' plight, she truly did. To have lost so much... so many... She remembered well the year of the Fell Winter, the worst winter in all of Shire history, hundreds of hobbits dead of cold and starvation, or hunted like animals... many of them relations... her parents...

So yes, she did feel a sort of sympathy for the dwarves, it was true. But that did not mean she was willing to pack off her brother to the wild unknown. Who would look after him? Certainly not His Royal Sulking Highness, who had barely stopped scowling for more than two minutes together since he'd walked in the door. And Brie's previous assessment of her brother still stood. He wouldn't last a day in the world on his own. He simply wouldn't. They had been taking care of each other for far too long, they didn't know any other way. He couldn't go out on his own. He just couldn't.

"I'm not a burglar!" Bilbo insisted, "I've never stolen a thing in my life!"

"I'm afraid I have to agree with Mr. Baggins," said the old dwarf, Balin, "He's hardly burglar material."

"Aye," Dwalin agreed, "The wild is no place for gentlefolk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves."

"Yes!" Brie exclaimed while Bilbo nodded enthusiastically beside her, "Exactly! Now you're talking sense!"

The other dwarves began to mutter amongst themselves, and Brie thought happily that they might finally be getting somewhere, when a suffocating darkness descended on the room.

"Enough!" Gandalf shouted, "If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar he is!"

The room went deathly silent. Gandalf seemed to gather himself together again and the heaviness of the air receded. Brie was able to regain her breath. But not quite soon enough.

"Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet," Gandalf continued, "In fact, they can pass unseen by most if they choose."

Brie piped up, "That's true, but..."

The wizard spoke over her.

"And while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of dwarf, the scent of hobbit is all but unknown to him, which gives us a distinct advantage."

"That may well be, but you can't just..."

"You asked me to find the fourteenth member of this company," Gandalf said, speaking to Thorin and pretending not to have heard Brie at all, "And I have chosen Mr. Baggins. There's a lot more to him than appearances suggest, and he's got a great deal more to offer than any of you know."

The wizard turned and gave Brie a narrow-eyed glare. She shut her mouth. Gandalf turned his attention back to Thorin.

"You must trust me on this."

The dwarf paused. Brie crossed her arms and glared at his back as fiercely as she was able. Surely he would not do this, he couldn't possibly see the wisdom in going along with this lunacy, it was absolutely...

"Very well."

Brie blinked.

 _"What?"_

"We'll do it your way," Thorin said, turning away as if her indignation and fury were nothing to him, "Give him the contract."

Bilbo sputtered a mix of incoherent protests, and Brie felt a fire boiling in her blood.

"Now see here, wait just one moment, you can't honestly believe...!"

But a thick packet of paper was thrust at Bilbo, and then Balin was talking, and once again _no one_ was listening to her.

"It's just the usual," Balin said, "Summary of out-of-pocket expenses, time required, remuneration, funeral arrangements, so forth."

"Funeral arrangements?" Bilbo squeaked.

But he was fumbling with the paper and stumbling into the hallway as the contract unfolded nearly to the floor. Brie followed after him, throwing her most fiery glare at the whole lot of dwarves, and saving her most piercing stare for the wizard, who paid her no mind at all. It was infuriating!

"Give me that!" Brie snapped, ripping the paper out of Bilbo's hand and skimming over the preliminaries at the top, which simply stated (in much more flowery terms) the nature of the quest as Bofur had put it forth to them earlier.

Bilbo snatched at the contract, tugging it back and, after a brief struggle, the twins settled shoulder to shoulder, both pairs of bright green eyes flying over the blocky script.

"Terms:" Bilbo muttered, "Cash on delivery, up to but not exceeding one fourteenth of total profit, if any..."

"Well, that seems... fair," Brie grudgingly admitted, but her eyes were already skimming down closer to the bottom, "Present company shall not be liable for injuries inflicted by or sustained as a consequence thereof including but not limited to... lacerations..."

Bilbo squeaked, his eyes apparently finding the same section of parchment that was currently making Brie's vision go red.

"E... Evisceration?" he stuttered.

They hurriedly unfolded another section of the parchment and both stared, first at the words, then at each other, then at the group of dwarves in the diningroom.

 _"Incineration?"_ they both exclaimed.

"Oh, aye, he'll melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye," Bofur said cheerfully.

Brie was speechless. Absolutely speechless. She was trying to take breath, but found she was having a very difficult time of it.

"Think furnace, with wings!"

Bofur's voice rang in her ears and she suddenly felt much more light-headed than she had previously. She reached out and gripped the archway. Her brother... They... They wanted her brother...

"Flash of light, searing pain, then poof! You're nothing more than a pile of ash."

She was seeing spots. She... She couldn't...

 _Briallen Baggins, get a hold of yourself! You cannot faint. You CANNOT...!_

There was a thump and Brie whirled around. Bilbo was on the floor. In a dead faint.

* * *

"I'll be all right," Bilbo said, after he was settled in his chair by the fire, a cup of tea in hand, "Let me just... sit quietly for a moment."

"You've been sitting quietly for far too long!" Gandalf said.

"Now see here!" Brie exclaimed, leaping to her feet, "I don't know what you think..."

"Briallen Baggins, I would like a word with your brother, _alone_ if you please!" Gandalf said, "I believe you have guests that need seeing to."

"But I..."

"Go!"

Brie glared up at the much larger wizard, hands on her hips, and briefly entertained the idea of refusing him. But the memory (still fresh) of the heavy darkness that had settled over the dining room quickly put the thought out of her mind. With an angry huff, Brie stomped out of the parlor.

"Confounded wizards, inconsiderate, nosy, good-for-nothing..."

She muttered and grumbled all the way down the hall to the closet where they kept the spare bedding. There were only four guest rooms and, with thirteen dwarves and a wizard staying the night, they were most likely going to require most, if not _all,_ of the blankets and pillows.

As she was counting and stacking up blankets, Brie found her anger slowly ebbing away, replaced by a hard knot in her throat that she could not seem to dislodge. Bilbo would never agree to this. He would _never..._ He wouldn't leave her, no matter what the wizard said. Surely not. But there was a niggling bit of doubt in the back of her mind that plagued her. What if he did? What if he agreed and signed that blasted contract? Took off into the wilds with nary a glance back? Brie's heart started pounding and her chest constricted until it was hard to breathe. Her whole body was shaking. Because as much as she grumbled and fussed that Bilbo would not last in the world on his own, the truth of it was that Brie would not last in the world without Bilbo. And if he went away... If he never came back...

She could feel a panicked sob building in her throat and she pressed the stack of blankets in her arms to her mouth to stifle the sound and the tears that would follow. She was surrounded by dwarves. She _could not_ cry!

After a good while (though she knew not how long) Brie managed to right herself, taking deep breaths, in through her nose and slowly out through her mouth, the knot in her throat loosening. It was alright. It would all be alright. Bilbo was a Baggins, through and through. He didn't have that Tookish streak like his sister did, the call in the blood that drove her to do foolish things...

Like face down wolves...

Or take back mountains...

Brie took another deep breath. No. Everything would be sorted by morning. The dwarves would leave, life would go on, and Brie and her brother would live out their days in the comfort of the Shire, just as a Baggins should. Yes. That was the right of it.

Brie gathered up a few more spare pillows and managed to get the closet door closed with her foot, turning just in time to bump straight into a dwarf, sending all the bedding tumbling to the floor in a heap. Brie would surely have followed were it not for a strong pair of hands catching her arms and setting her right again.

"Easy there, sweetheart!" the dwarf said (the one with the star-shaped hair... was it Nori? Yes, she thought it was), "Wouldn't want you to bang your pretty head now, would we?"

 _Pretty head?_ Ha! Cheeky creature. Brie straightened her dress to hide her flush. Oh how she hoped it didn't look like she had been crying. She hadn't been, of course, but she'd been close enough that it might appear so.

"Here, let me get this up for you," Nori said, stooping down to gather up the dropped blankets and pillows.

Brie opened her mouth to protest... until she saw the barest hint of silver inside the dwarf's jacket. Years of thwarting her cousin Lobelia's brazen attempts at thievery had sharpened Brie's senses, and she could now detect the exact size and shape of the hidden items in question.

"Are... Are those candlesticks?"

The dwarf jumped like a startled rabbit, his eyes wide.

"What?"

Brie narrowed her eyes and put her hands on her hips.

"Do you have my Great-Aunt Pansy's candlesticks in your jacket, Master Dwarf?"

Nori stared at her for a moment. Then a smile slowly spread across his face. He wrestled a moment with the armload of blankets, then reached into his jacket and removed the candlesticks, weighing them thoughtfully in his hand.

"Oh, you mean these?" he asked, innocently, "Well, I was just going to give them a shine for you, sort of a 'thank-you-for-having-us' present, if you like..."

"I'll just take those, thank you very much," Brie snapped, snatching the candlesticks out of his hand, "And you can put those blankets in the parlor if you please, don't dawdle about it."

Nori bowed low, still grinning so widely Brie thought his face might split in half.

"At your service, Mistress Baggins."

And then he was gone, quick as a blink. Brie sighed and rubbed her eyes.

Dwarves... Of all the foul luck.

* * *

Brie didn't know what had happened in the parlor, only that afterward Bilbo had retreated to his bedroom, and no amount of knocking or coaxing could convince him to come out again. But the contract remained on the dining room table, unsigned, so she supposed that was rather a good sign.

She picked it up to read over again. Really, if you took out the bit about the incineration, the terms were quite good. All expenses paid essentially, and if any of the stories she'd heard of the riches of dwarves were true than the payoff was likely to be exorbitant, even split fourteen ways... And really, after sixty years, what were the odds that the dragon was even still there, or _alive_ , or...

She jumped and the contract fluttered back to the table, her heart pounding and her head swimming and not quite sure if she oughtn't sit down.

An adventure... She... _She_ could...

She shook her head to clear her mind. No. She couldn't. She wouldn't leave Bilbo. They were Bagginses and they were of Bag End and Bag End was where they would stay. All this talk of quests and dragons and gold and _adventures_ was putting her quite out of sorts. She needed to go to bed. She needed...

A low hum reverberated quietly through the house, so soft that it was hardly more than a stirring of the air, but Brie felt it deep in her bones and she was drawn to it, like a moth to flame. She padded softly down the hall toward the little parlor, where the fire still burned bright and the sound of humming could be heard taking shape. She peered through the doorway.

"Far over, the Misty Mountains cold..."

Thorin stood by the mantel, pipe in hand, and from him came the most beautiful music, words that spoke of mountains and caverns, fire and gold, in a voice that could only be described as fierce longing and jealous love. Brie huddled in the doorway and listened as the other dwarves joined him, melodies and harmonies, basses and tenors, melting together in the fire that burned within them, the fire of quest and purpose and home. She sat and she listened because she had no other choice, because the music of the song held her captive, stilled her mind and quickened her heart and awakened a longing so deeply buried she hadn't even known it still slumbered inside her. And it would not soon rest again, of that much she was certain, for even after all the dwarves had been put to bed, and Brie had taken her little candle into her own room and shut the door firmly behind her, she could still hear it, pulsing in her chest and singing in her soul.

Dwarves... Adventure... Of all the luck, indeed.

* * *

And then... they were gone.

The dwarves were all gone, leaving nothing in their wake but an empty pantry and the echoes of a deep, sad, longing that Brie could still feel reverberating in her chest, even now in the cheerful, bright sunshine of morning.

Bilbo and Brie sat in silence at the kitchen table, both cradling steaming cups of untouched tea. The unsigned contract lay between them, the only physical evidence remaining of the dwarves that had so recently occupied Bag End.

"So," Bilbo said.

"So," Brie answered.

A short pause.

"Honestly, I thought I might find you gone this morning," Bilbo said, a small smile twitching at his lips, "Run off with dwarves with naught but a note left behind. Very Tookish."

"Oh, Bilbo, don't be ridiculous," Brie said, stirring her tea determinedly, "Don't you remember what we always said as children?"

Bilbo looked up. Brie smiled and reached across the table, covering his hand with her own.

"Together..." she said, "...or not at all."

Brother and sister sat in silence a few momemnts more, the sunshine pouring down on them through the window of their childhood home. And, as had always been the case, their minds and hearts aligned in short order.

"Well," Bilbo said, taking a sip of his tea before he set down the cup and stood, "I suppose we really are overdue for something Tookish."

Brie smiled and stood with him.

"Dear brother, I could not agree with you more."

* * *

In less than an hour, the Baggins twins were running across Hobbiton, through fences and hedgerows, the wind catching at their curls and flapping at their coats. After a singularly spectacular double leap over a large pumpkin, one of the neighbors finally called out.

"Hey now, where are the two of you off to?"

And together they yelled back.

" _We're going on an adventure!_ "


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** I just wanted to say that I can't thank you guys enough for all the wonderful reviews! They make me a happy hobbit :) Alright, onward!

* * *

 **Chapter Three**

The Company of Thorin Oakenshield (consisting of thirteen dwarves and a wizard) were just entering the tree line outside of Hobbiton when a pair of small voices cried out behind them.

"Wait!"

"Hold on!"

"Wait for us!"

The entire company turned and was greeted by the sight of two hobbits running up the hill just as fast as their legs could carry them, both dressed in trousers, vest, and overcoat (though these items looked a trifle large on one of them, as though they'd been borrowed in haste), the overly-long contract flapping about in the air over their heads like a flag of truce.

"I signed it!" Bilbo called out as they approached the stunned group of dwarves.

" _We_ signed it," Briallen corrected him, putting her hands on her knees to catch her breath.

Bilbo handed the contract to Balin, who took it in a daze.

"You mean to say... you _both_ signed?" the older dwarf asked, pulling an eyeglass out of his pocket and scrutinizing the document in question.

"That's right," Brie said, still sounding a bit breathless, "Where he goes, I go, we've both agreed."

She finally managed to straighten herself, pushing a wayward curl out of her face.

"You can consider it a... a bonus. Two for the price of one, if you will."

"Unacceptable."

Thorin's voice was as emotionless as his expression, but his meaning was clear. Brie narrowed her eyes. She had been expecting this.

"Now see here, Thorin Oakenshield..."

"I was prepared to accept the risk inherent in the inclusion of one hobbit on this quest," Thorin spoke over her, " _One_ only. I am not prepared to accept responsibility for two, neither am I willing to risk the safety of this company on the whims and fancies of a sheltered mother hen. Mr. Baggins, you will cut the apron strings and bid farewell to your sister, or you will both be left behind."

Whims? Fancies? _Mother hen?!_

Before Brie had really thought through what she was doing, she had marched straight up to the arrogant dwarf, grabbed him by the front of his coat, and tugged just as hard as she could. Unprepared for this sudden assault on his person, Thorin was dragged almost completely off his pony and nearly nose-to-nose with one terrifyingly furious hobbit.

"Now you listen to me," Brie snapped, "I've had just about enough! I have been run down, talked over, tossed about, and _ignored_ since the moment your lot traipsed through my door and I'll not stand for it any longer! If I say I am going on your quest, then by the Green Mother, I am _going_ on your _blasted quest!_ And you will be _grateful_ for it, or so help me...!"

"Briallen!"

The wizard's voice brought her sharply back to herself, and she suddenly realized...

She had the king by the coat collar.

The _king_...

By the _coat collar_...

And he didn't look terribly pleased about it.

"I'm sure what Thorin _meant_ to say," Gandalf continued pointedly, "Is that he would be very pleased to have your help in reclaiming his kingdom. After all, it certainly can't do any harm to have a spare burglar on hand. Don't you agree, Thorin?"

There was a long, tense silence in which Brie realized she had yet to release the king's collar and she shoved it away as if it offended her. Thorin straightened himself and tugged the coat smooth, his eyes still glaring fiercely in her direction. They really were the most magnificent shade of blue...

"Get them each a pony."

Wait... what?

Bilbo immediately began protesting vehemently, and Brie opened her mouth to do the same... and then shut it again at one look from those piercing eyes. He was waiting for that. He was just _waiting_ for an excuse to leave her behind, and she would have none of it.

"Fine," she said, stubbornly.

He smirked and turned away. _Ooh!_ If that dwarf made it as far as Bywater before she throttled him it would be a miracle! Someone else could be king under his blasted mountain! One of his nephews maybe, they seemed like decent enough fellows. A little young, perhaps, but one couldn't have everything.

After only a few moments consideration, Brie managed to clamber aboard her pony _without_ the assistance of any overly-helpful dwarf princes, thank you _very_ much! She didn't think her dignity could have stood up to such handling as her brother was forced to endure. He looked positively traumatized.

Once astride, Brie found that she didn't quite mind her pony as much as she had supposed she would. It was a gentle beast, not prone to any head tossing or bit champing, perfectly content to plod along amiably among its fellows, with little to no provocation needed. Brie's feet did have a difficult time fitting the stirrups though and she eventually forwent the hateful things altogether, letting her legs swing pleasantly free, thankful she'd had the good sense to borrow her brother's clothes. She couldn't imagine trying to manage such travel in a dress (though she had brought one along just in case, rolled up tightly in the bottom of her pack. After all, one never knew).

After circumventing the struggles initially inherent in pony-locomotion, Brie began to feel the first tinglings of excitement. An adventure... They were on an _adventure_! It was enough to make her Baggins sense cringe and her Took blood sing.

"Come on, Dwalin, pay up, there's a good lad!"

A small pouch was tossed over Brie's head and she ducked in alarm. It was followed by several more bags of jangling coins, tossed this way and that, and Brie experienced a sudden flashback of the previous night, half-expecting the dwarves to break into song.

"What's that about?" Bilbo asked, waving a hand as another bag flew over their heads and someone let out a gleeful cackle.

"Oh, they took wagers," Gandalf explained, "On whether or not you'd show up. Most of them bet that you wouldn't."

"And what did you think?" Bilbo asked.

Gandalf hmmm'd to himself for quite some time, almost long enough to make Brie wonder... before a bag of money was tossed his way and he caught it quite nimbly midair.

"My dear fellow," Gandalf chuckled, "I never doubted you for a second."

Brie snorted.

"It's too bad no one wagered on _my_ showing up. Someone would be a very rich dwarf."

"Oh, that would be Nori, Miss Boggins!" Kili said, cheerfully.

Brie blinked. Then she leaned forward a bit in her saddle because _surely_ she hadn't heard the lad quite right.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Aye, he cleaned out the lot of us, the filthy scamp!" mumbled the red-headed Gloin uncharitably, "Put all his money on the chance you'd turn up."

"And my pockets do thank you for it!"

Brie turned around to stare at the dwarf in question (who was currently secreting away several bags of coin on his person).

"Why?" she blurted out quite suddenly, "I mean, why me?"

Nori caught her eye, that impossibly wide grin spreading over his face.

"I know a sure thing when I see it, sweet."

Then he winked at her. Actually _winked!_ Brie rolled her eyes and turned her back to him before he could see her blush. Cheeky creature! But she had to bite her lip to keep from smiling.

And then Bilbo sneezed violently.

"Blessings!" Brie exclaimed, "Alright there, brother dear?"

"Oh it's this horse hair!" he said, sniffing and digging about in his jacket pocket, "I think I'm having a reaction."

He checked both jacket pockets, then his inside pocket, both vest pockets, and even the pockets of his trousers, becoming more and more frantic as time went on until...

"Stop!" he cried out, "Stop, stop, we have to turn around!"

The ponies came to a halt and the dwarves all turned to stare at him.

"What on earth is the matter?" Gandalf asked.

"I forgot my handkerchief!"

Brie rolled her eyes.

"Oh for goodness sake..."

She reached behind her and, after only a few moments of digging in her pack and muttering to herself, she finally produced a square of white cloth and tossed it to Bilbo.

"There," she said, "I've brought extra. I swear, you'd forget your head if it weren't attached."

"Oh, thank goodness!" Bilbo said, using the clean handkerchief and then stuffing it into his pocket, "Whatever would I do without you, Brie?"

"Manage without pocket handkerchiefs, I imagine!" Gandalf exclaimed, looking rather annoyed as the dwarves grumbled and began to move out again, "And a good many other things before journey's end, Bilbo Baggins. You may have been born to the rolling hills and little rivers of the Shire, but home is now behind you..."

They crested a hill, the trees parted for a moment, and Brie caught a glimpse of faraway rocky plains and patches of dense forest, wild and untamed. Her breath caught in her throat.

"...the world is ahead."

* * *

The Company passed through the Shire in a few days, through Bree by the end of the week, and then they were quite officially out of the realm of Brie's experience. Their adventure had finally begun!

And what a monotonous, tedious business it was. Day followed day and nothing much happened at all. The terrain became rockier and wilder, and at first the novelty of the landscape was enough to lift Brie's spirits. But even that could only last for so long.

The dwarves passed the time talking and laughing amongst themselves, occasionally bursting into a traveling song, none of which Brie knew, of course. She didn't really know any traveling songs and she briefly considered the idea of composing one, something with a hobbitish ring to it. She even caught herself humming snatches of a tune on occasion, trying to match lyrics to her mood, but it all came out sounding a bit gloomy really, the road stretching on and on before her in a never-ending line, forward and back whence they came…

She thought about asking Bilbo for his help (he had always had a much better ear for writing tunes than she), but felt a bit uncomfortable, surrounded as they were by so many dwarves. And if she felt self-conscious, she could only imagine how Bilbo must feel, with his Baggins temperament and manners. For the most part they kept to themselves, making the occasional quiet comment on this or that, but never really talking much, even to each other. They had always been quite comfortable in each other's company, but even companionable silence suddenly felt stilted when compared with the loud merry-making of dwarves.

Brie sometimes wondered, in the midst of their silences, if Bilbo wasn't having second thoughts, but was simply unwilling to share them with her. That frightened her far more than she cared to admit, because if Bilbo did choose to turn back she would follow him, Took blood or no. He was her brother and she'd meant what she'd said. Together, or not at all. But she did think it would be a great shame to turn back, before they had even really begun.

Even though the hobbits tended to remain unintentionally isolated while traveling, they at least tried to make themselves useful when it came time to camp. Initially, the dwarves attempted to match Brie with Bombur, only to discover (much to their collective surprise and dismay) that she had very little skill at cooking anything that didn't require an oven. Bilbo soon took her place at the cooking fire while Brie was set to other menial duties, such as fetching firewood and tending the ponies.

This last task Brie did not mind nearly so much as she would have thought. She came to enjoy her time with the four-legged beasts, learning their names and preferences, even sneaking them apples and carrots when no one was looking. She often congratulated herself on honing her burgling skills in these moments, and fully intended to use this as a perfectly legitimate excuse should she ever be caught.

Two weeks into the quest (at which point the word was being used only in the absence of any other to describe their so-far lackluster experience), Brie felt that she and Bilbo had quite settled in to 'life on the road', as it were. Standing atop an outcropping of rock, feeding a pilfered apple to Bilbo's pony, Myrtle, Brie took a moment to survey the sleeping travelers, Bilbo wrapped in his blanket on the edge of the fire, tossing and turning, probably disturbed by the loud snoring of Gloin, the others scattered about the campsite in various states of repose, ranging from wide awake (Fili and Kili) to dead-to-the-world (Gloin's brother Oin... Brie often envied the healer's lack of auditory faculties in this regard).

Even Thorin appeared to be dozing, wrapped up in his coat and nestled into a small space in the rock. Brie scowled. Curse him, he even managed to look majestically aloof in his sleep! The mighty dwarf king had been nothing but an arrogant sod from Day One, keeping himself apart even from the rest of the dwarves in his company. But he seemed especially determined that everyone be perfectly aware of his disdain for a certain pair of hobbits. He appeared to show no interest in his burglars whatsoever and, though she tried to pay it no mind, his disregard had slowly wormed its way under Brie's skin. She was well on her way towards hating him. He was arrogant, pig-headed, sullen, and overall the most unpleasant person Brie thought she had ever encountered. That _included_ the Sackville-Bagginses. And she was reasonably certain that Thorin hated her. She knew that he at least resented her presence, and so she tried to remain out of his way as much as possible.

A screech echoed through the still night air. Brie jumped and the ponies shifted restlessly on their tethers. She put a hand to Myrtle's neck, soothing the disquieted beast. Had it been an owl? A fox? Another screech pierced the night and Brie's skin started to crawl. That was mostly certainly no night bird. She stumbled back toward the comfort of the fire and her traveling companions, who were slowly starting to stir at the noise.

"What was that?" Bilbo asked, his hair ruffled and his eyes wide. He threw off his blanket and came to stand at Brie's side, scrutinizing the darkness surrounding them.

"Orcs," Kili said.

Brie and Bilbo both turned to stare at the young dwarf.

" _Orcs?_ " they squeaked.

Another scream ripped the air and they both jumped, eyes flitting to the encompassing darkness.

"Throat-cutters," Fili agreed solemnly, "There'll be dozens of them out there. The lowlands are crawling with them."

Brie felt Bilbo reach for her hand and squeeze. Brie didn't reject the touch. She could feel herself beginning to shake, her Took blood suddenly nothing but a distant memory. Right now she was all Baggins, and that Baggins sensibility was currently chastising her Took foolishness quite thoroughly and in the strongest terms possible.

"They strike in the wee small hours," Kili murmured, "When everyone's asleep. Quick and quiet; no screams, just lots of blood."

Brie's eyes scanned the dark, each wavering shadow filled with a growing potential, a terrible possibility.

"You never... see them..."

Brie held her breath.

"COMING!"

There was a sharp pull on her braid and Brie jumped, lettting out a short scream before she was able to cover her mouth with her hand. Bilbo jumped and screamed with her, tripping over a rock and sprawling out on his back. Kili collapsed to the ground where he had snuck up behind them, dissolving into hysterical laughter, Fili quickly following. Brie put a hand to her pounding heart and tried to catch her breath.

"Oh... you... you... vicious, terrible little imps!" she cried, putting her hands on her hips, "I ought to skin you alive, the both of you!"

The princes were nearly in tears now, Kili rolling about at Brie's feet, and she was just about to either start scolding him like a faunt or kick him in the side, when a large shadow passed over her shoulder and covered the lad's face. Kili looked up and immediately stopped laughing.

"You think that's funny?" Thorin's voice rumbled behind her, "You think a night raid by orcs is a joke?"

Kili scrambled to his feet.

"No, Uncle," he murmured, echoed by his brother still sitting by the fire, "We didn't mean anything by it."

"No, you didn't," Thorin snapped, his imposing shadow moving off, "You know nothing of the world."

Brie turned to watch the dwarf king walk away. She had been angry at the insolent dwarflings to be sure, but she didn't think all that dark broodinghad really been necessary. It was only a joke after all.

"I'm sorry I frightened you, Miss Baggins," Kili mumbled, drawing Brie's attention.

He looked very young right then, eyes on the ground, toeing at the dirt, thoroughly contrite and somber. He had even used her real name, something he had not done even once since meeting her. Brie found that she could no longer muster the wherewithal to be angry with him. She smiled.

"Oh Kili, it's alright," she said, "There was no harm done."

Balin approached and put a hand on Kili's shoulder.

"Aye, don't mind him, laddie," he agreed, "Thorin has more cause than most to hate orcs."

"What do you mean?" Brie asked, glancing out toward the rocks where Thorin stood, just outside the firelight, "What happened?"

So Balin told them the story of Moria, and the Battle of Azanulbizar. Brie sat in the circle of firelight by her brother, knees pulled to their chests and shoulders touching, like a couple of faunts at the feet of their grandfather, Gerontius Took, as Balin wove the tale into the night air, painting vivid images on their minds of loss and glory. He told of the death of Thorin's grandfather, the loss of his father, and the death of his youngest brother, Frerin, in that last horrible battle.

Brie reached out and gripped Bilbo's hand, but her eyes found the back of the dwarf king, straight and tall and wrapped in starlight. She couldn't... She couldn't fathom it. If anything were to happen to Bilbo, if she were to lose him... Well, she didn't know what she would do, but she certainly wouldn't have the presence of mind or will to go on, to lead a lost people through poverty and homelessness, to keep hope alive for so long. And yet, here Thorin was. Taking back a kingdom. Hoping against hope...

"There is one who I could follow," Balin said softly, "There is one... I could call King."

Thorin turned back toward the firelight, his eyes sweeping across the dwarves who had gladly volunteered to follow him through dragon fire. And as he walked through the camp, his step sure and his bearing erect, Brie was forced to admit that she quite agreed with Balin. Sullen, yes. Arrogant, maybe. Nigh unbearable, to be sure. But Thorin Oakenshield was every inch a king.

"But... the Pale Orc?" Bilbo asked, voice small and timid, "What happened to him?"

"He slunk back into the hole whence he came," Thorin said dismissively, "That filth died of his wounds long ago."

He passed between the hobbits and the fire, but he did not look down at them.

"Get some sleep," he said, "We leave at first light."

The dwarves who had woken quickly found their way back to their bedrolls and were back to sleep in less than two blinks, the obnoxious snores echoing in the night. But Brie lay still under her blanket and could not sleep. The images from Balin's story flitted through her mind and kept returning to Thorin and his brother. In her mind's eye, Frerin was as fair as Thorin was dark, much like Fili and Kili. She could see them fighting on the rocks, surrounded on all sides, and when she closed her eyes it was not Thorin and Frerin, or even Fili and Kili, but Bilbo, sweet Bilbo, screaming over the screeches of orcs...

She opened her eyes and sat up. Beside her Bilbo stirred sleepily.

"S'wrong?" he slurred, peering up at her through tousled curls.

She smiled as convincingly as she could and ran a hand through his hair.

"I'm alright, Bilbo," she murmured, "Go back to sleep."

He nodded and closed his eyes again. Brie leaned back against the stone, fingers carding absently through his hair, and a song that their mother used to sing came unbidden to her mind. The words escaped her lips in whispered melody, barely audible above the snores of the dwarves around them.

 _"Golden slumber kiss your eyes,_

 _Smiles await you when you rise._

 _Sleep, my darling, don't you cry,_

 _I will sing a lullaby._

 _"Cares you know not while you sleep,_

 _And I o'er you watch do keep._

 _Sleep, my darling, don't you cry,_

 _I will sing a lullaby."_

Bilbo's breathing slowed as he settled into deep, contented sleep. Brie sighed, her brother's steady breathing and the feel of his curls under her hand easing her own nerves as much as his. She could do this. She could take care of him, she could keep him safe. It was her job, after all. She could do this.

She leaned down and kissed Bilbo's forehead. Then she settled back, closed her eyes, and softly hummed herself to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Hi everyone! Before we get started, a couple of things have been pointed out to me, and I feel I should address them. First, I was graciously reminded that Gerontius Took was actually Bilbo's (and by default, Brie's) _grandfather_ , not uncle. I have gone back and edited the previous chapter to reflect this. Sorry for the confusion, I do try to get my facts straight, but sometimes things slip through the cracks :)

In that same vein, I have also been informed that the lullaby at the end of the previous chapter was actually used in a Beatles song. I just wanted to let you guys know that I had no idea that was the case. I try to remain in canon for most things, or within the parameters of what might be at least relatively believable. I found the lullaby on a website of old folk songs and lesser known lullabies, and I thought the lyrics fit the situation and the time period, so I used it, having no idea the Beatles had used it before me. I've actually made a recording of the lullaby as I believe Brie (and her mother before her) might have sung it, you can find it on my tumblr (also fogisbeautiful) if you'd like to listen :)

Thank you guys so much for pointing these things out to me, I really do appreciate all the feedback I've gotten so far! Now, on with the story!

P.S.- I nearly forgot! There is a tiny bit of Khuzdul in this chapter, I will put a translation in a note at the bottom! :)

* * *

 **Chapter Four**

The next day, it started to rain.

It began almost the moment they set foot on the road, and they were all soon soaked through and thoroughly miserable, but none more so than the two hobbits, who had only their outer coats and no hoods to keep the water from running under their collars. It was summer, so the water was not terribly cold, but it was still abominably dismal. Even Gandalf seemed out of sorts, snapping quite unexpectedly at Dori when asked about changing the weather (something Brie considered to be a perfectly legitimate query of a wizard, though she herself had not voiced it).

By the time they called a halt, putting up camp under an overhang of rock that couldn't even properly be called a cave, Brie felt as if she could have been twisted and wrung out like a dish towel. The moment the ponies had been tended to, she settled by the fire and attempted to run her hands through her mess of hair. Even her braid had not been able to save her curls from knotting today and the water seemed to have only made the situation worse. She was sorely tempted to cut the whole thing off and have done, but she was stubbornly attached to her curls, so she simply fumed helplessly over the offending locks until Bilbo sat beside her, took her by the shoulders, and twisted her about until her hair was in proper light for him to see by.

"Give it here," he muttered, taking the long rope of pitifully snarled hair in his hands, "Where is your comb?"

Brie produced a wide-toothed wooden comb from her bag and handed it over her shoulder. Slowly, Bilbo began teasing his way up from the ends, separating the jumble of tangles with careful, practiced fingers. This was not the first time her brother had been forced to muddle his way through such a mess. Several times over the years, Brie had found herself grateful for her brother's steady hands and endless patience, not just in regards to her hair either. In what felt like an eternity (but was really only a few minutes), Bilbo had worked out all the knots and combed smoothly through her now mostly dried hair, separating it into sections and preparing to braid it up again.

"Excuse me."

The hobbits looked up. Ori was at Bilbo's shoulder, looking a bit shy and uncertain.

"I'm terribly sorry, but are you aware that you're doing it all wrong?"

The eyebrows on both hobbits shot straight up. They glanced at each other, and then back at Ori.

"I'm sorry... wrong?" Brie asked, curiously.

The young dwarf blushed right up to his hair line and clasped his hands behind his back.

"Well... I mean, maybe not _wrong_ really, but... well, you see it's just that..."

"What the poor boy's trying to say," Nori said, waving a smoking pipe in their general direction, "Is that particular style of braid that you're using isn't compatible with your hair's length and type, sweet. That's why it keeps falling out and knotting up on you."

The hobbits stared at Nori blankly. Then they stared at each other. Then back at Nori.

" _What?_ "

Nori rolled his eyes and stood up, shoving his pipe at Ori (who barely caught it before it dropped to the ground) and flapping his hands at Bilbo.

"Here, shove over and I'll show you."

But before either hobbit could move or speak, a large hand appeared seemingly out of nowhere and smacked Nori squarely upside the head.

"Ow!"

"You certainly will _not_ do any such thing, you impertinent beast!" Dori exclaimed, his arms crossed and glaring at his brother from over Bilbo's shoulder, "It wouldn't be proper! I am ashamed and appalled that you would take advantage of the little creatures' ignorance of such things; I raised you better!"

"Here, I wasn't gonna do nothing dodgy!" Nori protested, rubbing the back of his head, "I was asking _permission_!"

"It still wouldn't be proper; you are far too young," Dori insisted.

"I'm old enough to be her grandfather!" Nori exclaimed.

"Actually," Gandalf interjected from his shadowy corner, wreathed in pipe smoke and with a mischievous twinkle about him that Brie wasn't entirely sure she liked, "Hobbits age quite different from dwarves. All things being equal, I believe the two of you might be approximately the same age."

Brie and Nori stared at each other for a moment, both looking a bit skeptical.

"How old are you anyway?" Nori asked.

"Nori!" Ori gasped, "You can't just _ask_ her that!"

"I am fifty years old," Brie replied, without the slightest hint of reluctance.

"Oh thanks, Brie," Bilbo said, with a resigned sigh, "Did you think maybe you might want to consult with _me_ first, before you just blurt out our age to everyone?"

This proclamation was met with an almost deafening silence. Bilbo and Brie both looked around, sensing that something was amiss. The entire camp of dwarves was now staring at them, some with mouths agape.

"Do you mean...?" Ori tried, but seemed to lose command of his tongue mid-sentence and lapsed back into speechlessness.

"Are you saying...?" attempted Dori, but was met with the same fate as his brother.

"Are you telling us...?" Fili asked.

"...the two of you are the _same age?_ " Kili finished, leaning forward, his eyes shining.

Brie was taken aback for a minute. She had thought this would be obvious. She looked at Bilbo, who seemed to be just as perplexed as she was. She turned back to the dwarves.

"Well... I mean, of course we are," she said, "We're twins."

There was a solid five seconds more of stunned silence.

"Well, bless my beard!" Bofur finally exclaimed, slapping his knee jovially, "I thought that was a myth!"

"I thought it was an elf-tale," Gloin grumbled, "Conjured up to intimidate us."

"So you were both born to the same mother, on the same day, _at the same time?_ " Ori asked, scrambling around in his bag and finally producing his journal and a pen, flipping it open and scribbling furiously.

"Ye... Yes?" Brie stuttered, looking around at the other dwarves who were all muttering amongst themselves in various states of shock, amusement, and even horror, "Wait... do you mean to say that dwarves don't have twins?"

"Are you joking, lass?" Bofur laughed, "We're usually lucky if we can survive one dwarfling at a time! Our little ones are a handful from Day One!"

"Can you imagine if there had been _two_ of me?" Kili said, delightedly punching his brother in the arm.

"I don't _want_ to imagine if there had been two of you," Fili replied, rolling his eyes and grabbing Kili in a playful headlock.

"Can I sketch the two of you together?" Ori asked Brie and Bilbo, his eyes shining, "It would make an excellent addition to the book when it's finished!"

"Well, not now," Brie said, reaching back to touch her forgotten curls, "My hair is in a terrible state!"

"Oh, I can take care of that in a trice, dear," Dori said, cheerfully returning to the matter at hand.

"Hey now!" Nori said, "I thought you said it weren't _proper_?"

"Well certainly not for _you,_ " Dori said dismissively, "Unless you plan to _court_ the poor creature, in which case, _Mahal_ preserve us!"

"Wait, _what?_ " Brie squeaked.

"Now wait just one moment!" Bilbo exclaimed, but no one appeared to be listening to either of them.

"Of course I'm not planning to court her, I thought that'd be obvious!" Nori exclaimed, then he paused and glanced down at Brie sheepishly, "No offense, sweet. You're a pretty little thing, I just prefer mine with a bit more facial hair."

Though Brie wasn't entirely sure she understood the bit about the facial hair, she decided not to question it right then and simply nodded.

"No offense taken at all, Mister Nori."

"Regardless of our intentions," Dori interrupted, glaring at his middle brother, "I still think it would be much better for appearances on all sides if we could just leave the braiding to me. I am the eldest, after all."

"You're not that much older than me," Nori insisted.

"I'm almost a full _fifty years_ your senior!" Dori exclaimed.

"Forty-three," Nori said, "That's hardly fifty."

"It is _still_ older than you!"

"By that logic, Balin should be doing the braiding!"

"I'd really rather not," Balin said, smiling kindly at Brie, "Your hair is far too pretty for my clumsy fingers, Miss Baggins."

"I could do it!" Ori said, smiling hopefully.

" _No!_ " Both Nori and Dori shouted.

Ori's expression drooped.

Several other dwarves spoke up then, and soon a loud, indecipherable argument was well underway. Brie was beginning to wonder if she ought not just do it herself and live with the consequences. She hadn't realized that hair braiding could be quite this complicated...

"With your permission, Miss Baggins."

Bilbo and Brie both jumped and looked up at the inclusion of a new voice in the discussion. Dwalin, of all people, was staring down at them, his arms folded, a completely neutral expression on his face. In the midst of the heated squabble, no one seemed to have noticed that the dwarf warrior had even moved, much less spoken.

"I assure you, my intentions are honorable and I've no wish to court ye," The bald dwarf added gruffly.

Brie briefly wondered if she ought not be offended, but decided there was no point in it. She was middle aged and well into spinsterhood. Being offended because someone declared their intention _not_ to court her was bordering on the ridiculous. And the entire debacle was well into that territory already, without any help on her part. She eyed Dwalin's bald head and thick fingers with a small bit of trepidation, wondering if she oughtn't just wait and see...

There was a shout and Brie knew without even turning her head that a wrestling match had broken out around the fire, which settled the matter for her entirely. She gave a decisive nod and Bilbo quickly scurried out of the way, allowing the large dwarf to take his place at her back without a word. Dwalin's hands were surprisingly gentle as he turned her head to face front and ran his fingers through sections of her curly hair, separating it into far more bits than Brie would have thought necessary. There was still a lot of shouting and tussling going on among the other dwarves, who had not yet seemed to notice that the object of their argument was now effectively a moot point. Brie was finding it rather difficult to keep facing straight ahead, jumping at the noises and sudden movements in the corner of her eye, and she wondered if she shouldn't say something to...

"Wouldn't object to hearing that song again," Dwalin mentioned, just as casually as you please, "If you've a mind."

Brie stiffened. Was... Was he talking about her mother's lullaby? She hadn't realized anyone else had heard that, she'd thought she'd been very quiet about it, but then the rocks probably echoed a bit, maybe she had been louder than she'd thought, and oh _dear_ _,_ if they _all_ had heard her... She could feel a blush creeping up her neck, but she refused to flinch away. Instead, she straightened her spine, put on her best face (as her father would have said) and began to hum, and then to sing, very, very quietly.

 _"Golden slumber, kiss your eyes..."_

It was a very soothing tune, and despite her nervous embarrassment, it did make ignoring the other dwarves a bit easier. Dwalin's fingers moved in swift and precise patterns, effortlessly matching the cadence of her voice, as he worked what felt like a complicated woven pattern, first on one side of her head, then the other, gradually bringing the two halves together until they coalesced and cascaded down the middle of her back. By the time the song was over, Dwalin's hands had stilled and Brie felt almost content. There was one soft moment in which she didn't wish to move or speak for fear of breaking the spell.

"Oh Brie..." Bilbo sighed happily.

Brie reached up and touched the lattice of her hair on one side of her head. A glass was pressed into her other hand and she used it to better see the work to either side. It was wonderful, both functional and aesthetically pleasing. She caught a glimpse of Dwalin in the glass, his arms folded across his chest, his eyes narrowed critically as he surveyed his work.

"It's lovely, Mister Dwalin," she said, smiling at his reflection, "Thank you ever so much."

He grunted.

"Joins're a bit rough," he muttered, "Might have to get a bit more practice in. S'been a while."

"Well you are welcome to practice any time the mood suits you," Brie declared.

He only grunted again, but he looked marginally more pleased.

It was still raining and as Brie took another moment to admire the latticework in the glass, she realized the reason she knew this was because she could hear the rain dripping on the rocks just outside the overhang. Everything else was quiet. She looked up. The other dwarves were all staring, mostly at Dwalin (who didn't seem to be paying them any mind), but some at her. Nori especially had a fixated look on his face, something between enchantment and concentration. He sank to the ground in front of her and Brie felt Dwalin tense at her back, but Nori didn't seem to notice. His big hazel eyes stared at her, no trace of his normal teasing grin to be seen.

"Sing it again, sweet?" he asked softly, almost breathlessly.

His gaze was so intense that Brie unintentionally shied away from it. A large hand rested on her shoulder.

"She's under no obligation to do anything for you, thief," Dwalin growled.

Nori's eyes snapped up and caught a glittering, dangerous edge.

"Do you speak for the lady now, _guardsman_?" Nori asked, spitting the title as if it were a curse.

Dwalin's hand on her shoulder tightened and Brie could feel the tension in her lungs with each breath she took. She didn't want a fight, not another, especially not over something as silly as this.

"I don't believe I could sing it again just now, Mister Nori," she squeaked, "But, perhaps another time?"

Dwalin and Nori stared at each other for another long moment, long enough that Brie wondered if either of them had even heard her. She was about to repeat herself when Nori dropped his eyes and (seeing something on her face) instantly relaxed his expression into his customary wide smile.

"You're right, sweet," he said, rolling back to his feet, "Bad timing, obviously."

His eyes flicked back to Dwalin, but only for the briefest of seconds before he turned and sauntered off, only breaking his careless facade when Dori reached out for him as he passed. He slapped his brother's hand away, flopping down against the stone wall and yanking his pipe from Ori's stunned grip. Dwalin abruptly stood up and stomped off in the opposite direction, toward Balin wrapped in a blanket by the fire. Thorin (who had only gotten briefly involved in the fighting when it had looked as if his nephews might be joining the rabble) got up and reseated himself next to Dwalin, murmuring insistently into his ear, but Dwalin only grunted and shrugged in response to what was said, setting himself to work vigorously polishing one of his axes.

Bilbo settled himself carefully into Brie's side, his eyes wide.

"What was that?" he whispered nervously.

Brie's gaze flitted back and forth between the two dwarves, who now seemed perfectly at ease, though as far away from each other as possible.

"I haven't the slightest idea."

* * *

When they woke the next morning it was still raining, and wretched, and the temperature had dropped enough in the night for Brie to begin worrying that she, or worse _Bilbo_ , might catch cold.

 _And wouldn't that just top the cake for Thorin Oakenshield?_ she thought, glaring pointedly at the dwarf king's back as they packed up camp and prepared to ride out. A small part of her knew, of course, that none of this was in any way Thorin's fault, but a larger part of her irrationally wondered if he had not somehow conjured the rain from the sky just to spite her.

Bilbo shivered and Brie frowned at him in concern. He couldn't catch cold. She had a sudden vision, of pale, gaunt fingers wrapped about her much younger hand and the last soft, rasping words of her mother: _Take care of your brother, my flower... Take care of him..._

She should have done more. She should have been ready. If only she'd had more time to prepare for this thrice-cursed, ill-advised _adventure…_

Something solid and warm flopped over the hobbits and Brie jumped. Dwalin stood over them, glaring, his arms crossed almost menacingly. If Brie didn't still have the memory of his fingers running gently through her hair fresh in her mind, she might have been frightened of the intimidating dwarf.

"Can't have both our burglars catching their deaths," he muttered, before stomping off without waiting for a response.

Brie and Bilbo exchanged a perplexed look, and then looked down. A thick cloak had been flung at them quite unceremoniously, well-worn, patched in several places, and big enough to easily wrap both of them twice over. Bilbo shivered again and something inside of Brie twisted painfully. She quickly disentangled herself from the thick wool and endeavored to wrap it more securely around him.

"Here," she insisted, before he could protest, "You take the first turn."

Bilbo glared at her from underneath the dark green hood.

"You'll take a turn at noon?" he said, forming it rather more as an order than a question.

Brie forced a smile and a nod, and that seemed to mollify him a bit. He settled the heavy fabric more firmly about his shoulders and turned to collect his pack. Brie swept her gaze out over the company, attempting to find Dwalin again, but instead caught Thorin's eye quite by accident. He was frowning at them, mostly at her in particular, but Brie met his gaze solidly, hands on her hips, just _daring_ the dwarf to say anything, anything at all. She was wet and cold and thoroughly miserable, not to mention terrified that her brother might come down ill, and if that arrogant sod said even _one word..._

Thorin looked away first, turning his head and tugging his own hood down over his eyes as he stomped in the direction of the ponies. Brie felt a small twinge of satisfaction that nearly made the whole thing worth it.

That is, until the sneezing started.

The rain got far worse before it got better, increasing to a downpour by noon. When they dismounted for a brief rest and a cold meal, Bilbo flung Dwalin's cloak over Brie's dripping shoulders before she could object, and would hear not one word on the subject after. Brie grumbled and fidgeted under the heavy wool, but silently she reveled in the residual warmth.

The sneezing began not long after. At first it was only a single sneeze and Brie thought nothing of it. She had always had quiet sneezes, no more than tiny squeaks that could easily be smothered in a sleeve. No one took any notice and the world moved on. Another sneeze followed, far enough removed from the first that Brie gave them no connection whatsoever. She managed to pull a damp handkerchief from her pocket and wipe her nose with no one the wiser. Then three sneezes in a row rattled her from top to toe and it was everything she could do to hold herself upright and smother the noise. It was then that the first inkling of worry began to worm its way into her mind.

By the time they made camp, Brie was sneezing in spasms, and her body ached with the strain of holding it back. The wool cloak felt stifling and she shed it as soon as her feet were firmly on the ground, handing it off to Bilbo.

"Take it back to…"

A fit of sneezing caught her off guard and she stumbled with the force of it.

"Brie!" Bilbo exclaimed, worry quite clear in his voice, and she couldn't have that, he couldn't worry, not about her, she was supposed to take care of him, take care of your brother, my flower, take care...

A hand caught her elbow as she staggered, trying to catch her breath from the sneezes. She looked up with watering eyes. It was Nori with his bright eyes and wide, open smile.

"Blessings, sweet!" he chirped, "Caught a fit of the sneezes, have we?"

"I'm fine," Brie said, pulling her elbow out of his hand.

But looking up at him had made her dizzy, and she lost her footing, ending up on hands and knees in the mud with no clear memory of how exactly she'd gotten there. Bilbo was at her side in an instant, but she pushed him away and scrambled back to her feet.

"I'm fine," she managed to say between sneezes, "Really, I'm… I'm fine, I just…"

But there were hands on her now and she felt so weak, her body aching and her head spinning so that she didn't know where to turn to get away from the hands that were holding her, pulling her, pushing aside the damp strands of hair that clung to her face.

"She's burning up," Dwalin rumbled.

"I'll get Oin," Nori said, all trace of amusement disappeared from his voice.

"No!" Brie shouted, struggling against Dwalin's hold, "No, please, I'll be fine, don't trouble, I'm fine..."

"What's going on?"

The sound of that imperious voice looming over her finally gave Brie the strength to break free of Dwalin and stand on her own, clenching her fists to control the shivers that were trying to tremble through her. She met Thorin's gaze defiantly.

"Nothing," she said, her voice deceptively firm, "I'm fine."

The king's eyes traveled over her slowly, meticulously, the way they had in Bag End, measuring, calculating. Brie tried to stand still under the scrutiny, to hold herself steady, but despite her efforts a shudder managed to travel up her spine and shake through her skin. Thorin saw. He met her eyes, his brow creased in a frown, and she answered with a glare. She would not allow him to use this against her. She would _not_.

He nodded.

"Very well."

He turned decidedly away, addressing the others who had all paused to stare at the commotion.

"Make camp," he ordered.

"Thorin..." Dwalin growled, but the king shot him a look and Dwalin's mouth shut against whatever he'd been about to say.

"Gloin, start a fire if you can," Thorin added, "We could all use a bit of drying out."

Only when Thorin had walked what she felt to be a safe distance away, did Brie allow her fists to unclench, and she was instantly taken with a fit of shivers she feared might rattle her teeth straight out of her head. Looking up at Thorin for such a long time had also made her vision whirl, and it took a great deal of effort to blink herself back into focus.

Dwalin, Nori, and Bilbo were all standing in a line before her, wearing wildly varying expressions. Dwalin was glaring, his arms crossed over his broad chest. Nori had tilted his head to the side curiously, as if trying to make sense of her. Bilbo was wringing his hands, looking as if he might burst into tears at any moment, and when Brie smiled at him, he scurried to her side and immediately began fretting, brushing her hair from her face and feeling her forehead.

"Oh Brie, oh dear, oh you _are_ burning up!"

"Bilbo, stop it, I'm alright," she said gently, pushing his fussing hands away, "Honestly, all this bother over noth..."

She was interrupted by three squeaking sneezes, all in a row.

Dwalin snorted, then unexpectedly turned and shoved the patched cloak they had borrowed into Nori's arms, nearly sending the other dwarf stumbling back with his force.

"You deal with her, then," Dwalin muttered, "I've got enough in the forge with one stubborn _hubma kharubaz_."

And with that he stomped away, leaving Nori wide-eyed and both hobbits very confused.

"What?" Brie said, still trying to catch her breath from the last sneeze, "What did he say?"

Nori turned back to the hobbits, and grinned.

"I really don't think you want me to repeat it, sweet," he said, shaking out the cloak and wrapping it tightly around Brie's shoulders, "Now, let's get you set down and see what we can't do about all this 'nothing' you seem to be experiencing."

"I'm fine," Brie said again.

"Of course you are!" Nori agreed, "I just thought you might want to sit by the fire for a spell, get dried off. That sounds nice, don't it?"

Brie had to admit that it did sound lovely, and she was so very tired. Nori led her to the fire Gloin had somehow managed to start, wrapping Dwalin's cloak more snuggly around her, while Bilbo hurried off to retrieve their packs from the ponies. When he came back, Gandalf was trailing behind him.

The wizard took one look at Brie and, without saying a word, headed off to check on the fire being tended by Gloin and his brother Oin. He bent down and the three of them murmured together for a moment, and then he was off again, this time in the direction of Dori who, after a brief word from the wizard, turned and began immediately digging about in his pack, though Gandalf did not wait to see what was produced. Instead he made his way leisurely back across the camp, settled himself beneath the dripping branches of a nearby tree, and pulled his pipe out of a hidden pocket, lighting it with a flick of his wrist.

Brie had been watching this all transpire with narrowed, suspicious eyes, but before she could question the wizard's motives, she was seized by another fit of sneezes that painfully caught a snarl of her hair in the teeth of the comb Bilbo was using to dismantle Dwalin's work of the night before, so that her hair could properly dry. She bit back a sharp cry and tried not to fidget, but the fire was hot, the heavy cloak stifling, and every time she tried to shrug off the outerwear, Nori silently, but firmly pulled it around her again. The fifth time this happened, Brie nearly turned and snapped at the meddling dwarf, but she was stopped by the warm mug of tea that was unexpectedly pressed in her hands.

"Drink it all up now, dear, there's a good girl."

She stared at the tea for a moment, and then up at Dori who was hovering over her with a stern look on his face.

"This really isn't necessary," Brie said, her voice hoarse despite her determination to sound natural, "I'm fine, honestly."

Dori folded his arms across his chest and didn't respond. Brie felt very much as if she were being reprimanded by his eyes. She carefully blew on the hot tea, then took a little sip... and promptly started to choke on the bitter liquid.

Nori laughed.

"Best to gulp it all down in one go, sweet," he said, "It don't get no better with age, I can tell you that."

"What is it?" she asked, trying not to sound as disgusted as she really was.

"It does not matter what it is," Gandalf snapped from his spot under the trees, "You will drink it all, without argument, or so help me, Briallen Baggins, I will throw you to the ground and force it down your stubborn Tookish throat myself. Is that clear?"

Brie opened her mouth to argue, and then closed it again. She wasn't sure if the wizard would really try to wrestle her to the ground, but the look Dori was giving her said that the dwarf might be willing. She looked to her brother, but he seemed just as determined as the others. She glanced around the camp. Thorin was sitting against a tree, glaring at her from under his hood. She clenched her jaw, raised the cup to her lips and gulped the whole thing in one go, ignoring the bitter taste as best she could. She was quite proud of herself when she didn't flinch. Thorin only smirked and turned away. She nearly threw the mug at him, but managed to restrain herself. She handed the cup back to Dori.

"Thank you," she said, politely.

And was then overwhelmed by a wave of weariness so strong it felt as if she were being smothered with it. She slumped to the side and Nori caught her, tucking Dwalin's soft cloak about her, murmuring softly in her ear.

"There, there, sweet, it's alright, I've got you now, I've got you..."

She wanted to protest, but the only thing she had the strength for was a feeble murmur. Her eyes shut of their own accord and felt herself drifting away, not quite into sleep, but not quite awake either. She could hear voices floating in and out of her consciousness.

Dwalin: _"What'd you give her anyway?"_

Nori: _"Sleeping draught. She'll be right as rain in the morning, don't you worry."_

Oin _: "I'll look her over before we break camp in the morning, just to be safe."_

Bilbo: _"I should never have let this happen, I should have done something..."_

Bofur: _"Don't be talking like that, lad, t'weren't your fault."_

There was a long time of quiet and darkness, and Brie thought she might have fallen asleep. It felt like sleep. Maybe she was dreaming. But the next voice she heard was unmistakable, whether she was awake or not.

 _"She shouldn't have come."_

 _"She'll be alright,"_ Gandalf replied, " _Go to sleep, Thorin."_

* * *

 **Khuzdul Translations:**

 _hubma kharubaz-_ bottom of a horse (basically, a horse's ass ;P)


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Brie woke in the morning, and knew that she had slept through the worst of it. Her fever had broken as she slept, leaving her with nothing but a runny nose and a groggy brain, which was quickly remedied with a cup of coffee (compliments of Bombur) so strong that Brie nearly choked on it. Oin insisted on giving her a look over, despite her insistence that she really _was_ feeling much better, and after a cursory examination he declared her fit enough for travel.

"It was only a cold," Thorin grumbled, "We've no time to dawdle over such foolishness."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Brie insisted, defiantly, "I can keep up."

Thorin only huffed and moved off. Brie narrowed her eyes at his back, hearing the echo of his words in her mind: 'S _he shouldn't have come'._ The words had been so soft, so… gentle, she'd been sure she had dreamed them, but now what they implied clenched her hands into fists and tightened her jaw. She could keep up. She _would_ keep up.

The rain had moved on in the night, and after breakfast (and Dwalin's quick, but insistent braid of Brie's hair) the company was moving again, the sun on their faces and generally all in much better spirits. When Bofur pulled a tin flute from his jacket and began twittering a ditty, Bilbo pulled up beside Brie and tugged on her elbow, pulling her subtly away from the others.

"Never do that again, Brie," he pleaded under his breath, "Please, I... I was so very worried. Will you please promise me you won't allow yourself to get into a state like that again?"

Brie opened her mouth to protest, to insist for the thousandth time that she was fine, that there was no reason to worry. But then she remembered their mother, so pale against the white sheets, golden hair dark with the sweat of a fever that would never break. And she couldn't speak meaningless platitudes, not to her brother, who had sat by her side in their mother's sickroom, watching helplessly as she slipped slowly out of their reach. So instead Brie smiled and covered his hand with her own.

"I promise, Bilbo," she said, "I'm not going anywhere."

* * *

That day and the next were both sunny and beautiful, and Brie found her mood to be much improved. In a matter of hours her cold seemed to have vanished, with nary a sniffle lingering. Later in the afternoon, Brie was pleasantly surprised by Ori, sidling up on his pony and making timid inquiries of the hobbit twins into their apparently fascinating childhood. Bilbo and Brie were more than happy to oblige him, spending a pleasant afternoon weaving tales of their adventures as faunts, and (as much as decorum would allow) explaining what the birth of twins to a mother entailed. Watching Ori somehow manage to scribble copious notes from atop his pony was both endearing and admirable.

In exchange, Brie and Bilbo attempted to ask questions of Ori concerning the hullabaloo over the braiding, but when Ori merely managed to stutter and blush in answer, Dori made the decision to interject himself into the conversation, which proved much more informative. The long and the short of it (if Brie could be pardoned for the expression) boiled down to this:

Dwalin's offer to braid Brie's hair and her subsequent acceptance was not, generally speaking, a 'done thing'. Since they clearly weren't related, it would be commonly understood that his intent was courtship under normal circumstances, but since his intentions had been stated quite firmly otherwise, and in front of a witness (that bit was _very_ important), the interpretation had become… a bit muddled. The understanding was, in this particular case, that the gesture could be considered a sign of acceptance and mutual respect, despite their differences. On the whole, they were in rather uncharted territory and, as Dori firmly put it, they could only hope that they encountered no other dwarf clans in the midst of their journey or they would have quite a lot of explaining to do.

Dori's explanation was peppered with a whole host of interesting details (for example, it was mentioned quite casually that not only dwarf men had beards, but dwarf women as well, which presented a whole new meaning to Nori's earlier comment concerning his preference for facial hair), and when he had exhausted that subject he easily and expertly turned the conversation to teas, of which he was a sort of self-proclaimed connoisseur, and Brie and Bilbo were more than willing to pass the time discussing the merits and pitfalls of different varieties for several hours, and even to brave a sampling in the evening, which seemed to please Dori to no end.

Brie thought that perhaps this 'adventure' might not be an entire disaster after all.

* * *

On the evening of the second day, they stopped to camp near an old abandoned farm house that, quite frankly, gave Brie the creeps. But as no one bothered to ask her opinion she kept her thoughts to herself, instead focusing on tending to the ponies, which had been gathered in what was left of a pen around the back of the house. While grooming each pony in turn (paying special attention to the sensitive spot above Minty's right shoulder), Brie watched Thorin and Gandalf talking, and then arguing, within the collapsed remains of the house. She couldn't hear what was said, but it ended with Gandalf turning sharply on his heel and stomping determinedly off toward the trees. Brie scrambled through the broken fence planks and hurried to catch him.

"Everything alright?" she called out as the wizard swept by, catching the attention of Bilbo in her wake.

"Gandalf, where are you going?"

"To seek the company of the only one around here who's got any sense," Gandalf grumbled.

"Who's that?"

" _Myself_ , Mr. Baggins!" Gandalf snapped, "I've had enough of dwarves for one day."

And with that he stomped resolutely over the ridge and disappeared. Bilbo and Brie glanced at each other nervously.

"Do you think he's coming back?" Bilbo whispered.

"He's a wizard," Dwalin muttered behind them, making both hobbits jump, "He does as he chooses. Now with your permission, Miss Baggins, I'd like another try at those locks o' yours…"

"See here now!" Nori exclaimed, popping up seemingly out of nowhere, hands on his hips (and looking surprisingly like his older brother, though Brie would _never_ have told him so), "You've had a go _every_ night, don't you think it's time someone else had a chance?"

Dwalin narrowed his eyes.

"I wasn't aware we were taking turns," he growled.

"Well that don't seem very gentlemanly, hogging it all to yourself," Bofur observed, puffing on his pipe, his eyes twinkling mischievously in the newly kindled firelight.

"Yeah, and if we're going by turns, I think it should be my turn next!" Nori insisted, crossing his arms stubbornly and matching Dwalin's glare.

"I won't allow it!" Dori cried, "I absolutely _insist_ that this family tryto retain at least _some_ sense of propriety!"

"Are you questioning my honor?" Dwalin asked, taking a menacing step toward Dori, who planted one fist on his hip and shook a chastising finger in the much larger dwarf's face.

"Now see here, Master Dwalin..."

"I won't be taking such lip from a dandy, frilly-talking..."

"Hey, that's my brother you're insulting!"

"Gentleman if we could all just please…"

"I'd like a turn too!"

And then the entire lot descended into chaos, shouting and wrestling sporadically, not paying one bit of mind to the two hobbits looking on with identical expressions of wide-eyed bewilderment. They exchanged a perplexed look.

"I'm going to finish with the ponies," Brie declared finally.

"I'll come with you!" Bilbo replied, scrambling after her.

* * *

Brie and Bilbo remained sequestered with the ponies in the tree-lined clearing until well after nightfall, even once the ponies were tended. The distant, angry shouts had died down after only a few moments, but Brie was unwilling to face whatever waited for her down there just yet, and Bilbo seemed quite content to keep her company. So the two hobbits lay together under the waving branches of the trees and watched the stars slowly wink into sight above them, pointing out constellations as they became apparent, slowly lapsing into silence.

They must have dropped into a doze because when Brie opened her eyes again, the position and brightness of the stars told her it was much later than it should have been. She sat up, rubbed her eyes, and nearly screamed when she saw two pairs of shining eyes peering down at her from the shadows.

"Evening, Miss Boggins!" Kili said brightly.

"Evening, Mr. Boggins!" Fili said to Bilbo, adopting his brother's cheerful mispronunciation.

"We've come to bring you supper!" Kili said, holding out a bowl to Brie with a grin.

"And to tell you that it's alright to come out of hiding now," Fili said, handing another bowl to Bilbo, "Thorin forced everyone to agree that whoever asks first, claims rights to your hair, so there shouldn't be any more trouble."

"Nori's been positively _fuming_ for over an hour!" Kili announced delightedly.

Brie groaned and placed her bowl on the ground, so that she could properly bury her face in her hands. Thorin had been forced to intervene, on behalf of her _hair_ of all things! She could only imagine the tongue lashing she was likely to receive when she finally _did_ return to camp. Maybe she could just sleep with the ponies tonight. Surely no one would mind. She peeked through her fingers at the four-legged beasts, wondering if she dared risk being trampled…

Wait…

That wasn't right.

Brie dropped her hands from her face and counted again. Then she got to her feet and used her fingers, just be _completely_ sure. Then, and _only_ then, did she start to panic.

"What's the matter?" Bilbo asked, scrambling to his feet.

"We…" Brie said, but her voice came out as a high squeak. She cleared her throat, "I think we might have a slight problem."

"What is it, Miss Baggins?" Kili asked, standing next to her and searching the dark.

"Well, you see, we had sixteen ponies…"

" _Had_?" Bilbo asked.

"Yes," Brie said, turning to her brother, "And now there are _fourteen_."

There was a pause. The dwarves and the hobbits exchanged looks. Kili used a finger to count the ponies himself, as if he didn't quite believe her.

"Well…" Bilbo said, hands on his hips, looking as if he were trying not to appear alarmed and failing utterly, "That's… That's not good. That is not good at all."

"Shouldn't we tell Thorin?" Fili asked.

" _No!_ "

Both dwarf princes jumped at the twins' fervent exclamation. Brie could only just _imagine_ how furious Thorin would be to discover that the hobbits he'd hired _specifically_ as burglars had allowed two ponies ( _ponies_ , for goodness sake, how did one lose a _pony?!_ ) to be burgled right out from under their noses…

"No, no, let's not worry him," Brie said, flapping her hands and trying not to sound desperate, "I mean, we _are_ the official burglars after all, this is sort of our area of expertise, I'm sure we can figure it out, don't you agree, Bilbo?"

"Oh yes, absolutely!" Bilbo said, fighting the panic that was threatening to creep into his voice, "Take these trees for instance…"

He waved a hand at a couple of fallen trees, whose roots were sticking up into the air.

"Yes, exactly!" Brie said, giving the trees a thorough examination for the benefit of her dwarven audience, "I mean, these trees… Something clearly uprooted these trees quite recently…"

"Something big," Bilbo added.

"Something _very_ big…" Brie mused.

"…and possibly… _quite_ dangerous…" Bilbo stuttered.

Brie could sense her brother having second thoughts, and she fought down the hysteria building in her throat. She would _not_ go running to Thorin! She refused to subject herself to that ridicule! She was a _Baggins_ of Bag End and the daughter of _Took_ , she would rather lie down and _die_ than…

"Hey, look there!" Fili said, pointing into the woods.

Everyone's head turned.

"There's a light!" Kili exclaimed, "Come on!"

The four of them slipped into the trees, Brie pleased to note that the two young dwarves moved almost as lightly as hobbits through the undergrowth. _Almost_. Once it became clear through the brush that they were approaching a fire, they all ducked behind a fallen log and peered out, trying to see more of what lay within that circle of flickering light. Before Brie was able to get a good look, a loud, obnoxious laugh echoed through the trees and the four of them dropped and flattened themselves to the log.

"What is it?" Bilbo whispered.

"Trolls," Kili murmured.

Bilbo and Brie both stared at Kili, and for a moment Brie wondered if this wasn't another of his tricks. But he didn't laugh, and neither did his brother. The two hobbits exchanged a blank look. This was _not_ what Brie had signed up for, but there was no helping it now. She would not go running back to Thorin, with his majestic hair and arrogant blue eyes and royally annoying pout. She'd meant it before. She would rather die.

"Come on," she whispered, scrambling up over the fallen tree and silently edging her way closer to the light, listening to the two extra sets of footsteps following in her wake and knowing that Bilbo wasn't far behind.

She managed to squeeze in behind a large tree and Fili pressed in close beside her, looking over her head into the clearing just beyond. Bilbo and Kili pressed against the trunk of another tree. All four of them peeked out cautiously, Brie having to consciously remind herself to breathe. There were two massive gray lumps surrounding the fire, one stirring a pot of… _something_ , the other watching with interest. The two missing ponies, Daisy and Bungo, were moving about restlessly in a roughly hewn pen behind them.

The ground beneath them vibrated and Brie gripped the tree as Fili gripped her shoulder. Another large gray troll stomped right past them and into the clearing, carrying a pony under each arm, which he unceremoniously dumped into the pen with the others.

Bilbo squeaked.

"He's got Myrtle and Minty!" he hissed at Brie, "I think they're going to eat them, we have to do something!"

Brie's eyes flitted over the clearing and the three trolls, and then locked with her brother.

"Yes," she agreed, "Yes we do."

There was a pause. And then a light flared to life behind Bilbo's eyes.

"Oh no!" he hissed furiously, waving a finger at her, "Nonono, _no_! Have you _looked_ at them?! They're _huge_!"

"Exactly!" Brie hissed back, "They're big, and slow…"

"…and really quite stupid," Kili added helpfully, Fili nodding his agreement.

"Yes, and we are small and quick!" Brie said, "We just have to slip in, untie that rope, and open the gate, simple as that! They'll never even know we were there!"

"You have gone _completely_ mad!"

"And if anything happens, Fili and Kili can rescue us," Brie added, with a determined nod.

"Exactly!" Kili agreed, and then exchanged a perplexed look with his brother, "Wait, what?"

Brie grinned at Kili and patted Fili's hand.

"Good lads," she whispered, slipping out of Fili's grasp before either of the dwarves could argue with her, "Come on, Bilbo!"

She heard her brother sputter for a moment, and then he was right beside her, stealing through the shadows at the edge of the trees, just out of the fire's glare. She could almost feel the fury rolling off him in waves. Good. If he was angry at her, he wouldn't have time to be scared.

The trolls were terribly distracted with whatever was cooking in that large pot over the fire. More specifically, with _arguing_ over whatever was cooking in that large pot over the fire. Kili had been right. They really were _incredibly_ stupid. And one appeared to have a cold. This was going to be even easier than Brie had imagined. At least, that's what she told herself.

The two hobbits managed to sneak in behind the trolls as they were arguing and Bilbo immediately set to work unknotting the thick rope holding the pen together, while Briallen kept lookout.

"I hope you're gonna gut these nags."

The troll with the cold turned and Brie yanked Bilbo back by his collar, pulling him out of sight just as the troll lumbered over and poked experimentally at one of the ponies. Both hobbits held their breath.

"I don't like the stinky parts."

There was a loud clang and the troll squealed in pain.

"I said sit down!" shouted the cook.

There was a crash and Brie peeked around the corner of the pen. All the trolls were seated again, watching and arguing over the pot. Brie leapt to her feet and began tugging at the rope with Bilbo, but it was thoroughly tangled together, far worse than her hair had _ever_ been. Brie was beginning to think even Bilbo's skill would not be enough...

The troll sneezed and both hobbits froze, ready to scramble back into hiding. But he only took a rag from the scrap of cloth around his waist, presumably to wipe his nose... and that's when Brie saw it. A long, curved knife hung glistening from the troll's waistband. It was nearly as long as she was tall, but Brie thought that if she could only tug it just so...

She glanced at Bilbo. He had seen the knife too. He gave her a blank stare. And then he glared at her and began vehemently shaking his head in an expression Brie was all too familiar with. He couldn't have been any clearer if he had shouted.

 _Briallen Baggins, don't you DARE..._

She looked back at the knife. He was right, of course. This was lunacy. They should just slink back into the trees and call the others for help before this got completely out of hand...

She could see Thorin's face in her mind's eye, the dark brows furrowing together, first in confusion, then in anger, his lips pressing into a thin line, those eyes glaring icy daggers into her before he opened his mouth and...

Brie set her jaw, dropped into a crouch, and scurried furtively along the edge of the pen toward the trolls. Bilbo would be _furious,_ of course, but Brie would rather hear all the fuming and stomping her brother could muster, than be subjected to the imperious growling of that blasted dwarf king _any_ day.

She managed to get behind the troll without being spotted and paused to catch her breath. Her heart was pounding somewhere in the vicinity of her throat, and her hands were sweaty and trembling just slightly. She wiped her palms on her trousers and thought of Thorin, imagined his glare, heard his voice in her head:

 _...she shouldn't have come._

The knife glinted just above her. She took a breath, stood up very, _very_ slowly, and reached out her hands...

The troll stood and Brie dropped to a crouch, ready to run, heart hammering against her ribs almost painfully. The troll scratched (quite thoroughly) under his scrap of loincloth, and then settled on his rock again. Brie could feel her breath coming out in a whoosh, but she smothered the noise with her hand. When this was over, she was going to walk into the woods and be thoroughly, horribly sick.

She took another deep breath and let her heartbeat settle back into what might possibly be considered a steady rhythm before she stood to try again. But she waited too long. She saw the troll's shoulders heave, and she dropped to the ground, flattening herself out completely, just as he reached for the rag in his belt, catching it and blowing his nose in a loud, honking sneeze.

There was a pause. And then a loud exclamation.

"Bert! Look what's come out of me 'ooter!"

Brie looked up... and felt all the blood drain from her face in a sickening rush.

The trolls had Bilbo.

Brie's mind was turning through a trench of molasses, working thickly around what her eyes were seeing, so slow, almost as slow as the trolls, the trolls that had Bilbo, but... She didn't understand. How...?

He must have followed her. Of course he had.

 _Together... or not at all..._

He had followed behind her and been somehow snatched up in the troll's 'handkerchief' (and really, wasn't that ironic, considering Bilbo's fondness for those particular items?), and now he was caught and... and covered in _troll snot_! Oh, if they got out of this alive, he was going to _kill_ her! Brie tried desperately to think of something, _anything,_ that would get her brother out of this terrible mess, but all her brain would provide her with was ' _save him, save him, SAVE HIM!'_ which was really not very helpful at all.

The troll shook Bilbo out onto the ground in front of the fire and the other two gathered around to peer down at him.

"What are you then? An oversized squirrel?"

Bilbo scrambled to his feet and shook his head.

"I'm a burgla-" he blurted out, and then seemed to think better of it, "Uh, Hobbit."

This puzzled the trolls immensely and they looked round at one another.

"A Burgla-Hobbit?"

"Can we cook `im?

"We can try!"

Brie scrambled to her feet as the trolls lurched for her brother and her panicked brain could only scream at her to ' _DO SOMETHING!',_ but nothing particularly useful came to mind. The only thing she could do was jump into the merry game of chase that Bilbo was leading them on, but that would only result in the both of them being caught, and someone needed to remain free to get help...

 _Get help!_

That's what she needed to do, she should run and get the others! Where were Fili and Kili?! She had made it as far as the tree line, when she heard Bilbo yelp and she looked back to see him hanging by his feet from the hands of one of the trolls. She froze, blood rushing in her ears.

"Are there any more of you little fellas hiding where you shouldn't?"

Bilbo caught Brie's eye. He crossed his arms over his chest.

"Nope."

Brie's heart stopped.

"He's lying."

"No, I'm not," Bilbo said firmly, a determined set to his face, even in his ridiculous position. He was looking directly at her, his eyes practically begging her to run, but... she couldn't just _leave_ him...

"Hold his toes over the fire," one of the trolls said gleefully, "Make him squeal!"

" _NO!_ " she screamed charging back out of the trees, not sure what she was going to do, but knowing that she couldn't, _couldn't_ leave him!

 _Together or not at all..._

But before she'd gotten two steps into the clearing, an arm shot out and grabbed her about the waist, yanking her back behind a larger, stockier form. It was Kili, who had burst out of the trees just beside her, striking at one of the trolls with a sword in one hand and pushing her back protectively with the other. Brie thought she might faint with relief, for if Kili was here, Fili would not be far behind, and maybe, just _maybe_ they could get out of this mess.

The injured troll howled and clutched at his leg, dropping to the ground with an earth-shuddering crash.

"Drop him!" Kili shouted, his sword outstretched, still pressing Brie behind him.

"You what?" one of the trolls said, stupidly.

Kili's eyes glinted with a malicious, gleeful light. He twirled the sword in his hand.

"I said, drop him."

The troll stared at Kili, then at Bilbo, then back at Kili. He shrugged. And then Bilbo was flying through the air, colliding into Kili's waiting arms and sending both hobbits and dwarf prince sprawling in the dirt. There was a loud roar of sound, and suddenly dwarves were crashing through the brush into the clearing... led, quite conspicuously, by Thorin. If Brie had been able to catch her breath right then, she would have groaned.

But there was no time to lament the impending loss of her dignity. Kili scrambled to his feet and shoved the two hobbits towards each other and the woods.

"Go!" he shouted, "Stay in the trees!"

Bilbo grabbed Brie's hand and started dragging her in the direction of the woods, both of them ducking and scrambling out of the path of wayward trolls and dwarves, locked in combat. Brie looked around, feeling a bit dazed by the whirl of chaos, and quite unexpectedly, locked her eyes on the ponies, rearing and kicking at their imprisonment, crying out in panicked squeals. Bilbo managed to pull her into the woods and shove her down behind a fallen tree, where they watched as the trolls tried to swat away the dwarves swarming around the general vicinity of their ankles, poking and slashing and stabbing for all they were worth. But Brie could not keep her thoughts from the ponies. If she had wanted a distraction, she could not have asked for one better. If she could just get around...

"What are you _doing_?!" Bilbo squeaked as Brie stood to her feet. He took her by the arm and yanked her down again, "Are you trying to get yourself killed?!"

"We can get them," Brie said, meeting her brother's furious gaze, "The ponies. If we get around the edge of the clearing and cut the ponies loose, there won't be any more reason to fight. We can get out of here, and no one will get hurt!"

"What has gotten into you?" Bilbo hissed, "Have you lost _all_ of your senses?"

"I can do this!" Brie insisted, tugging herself free, "Just stay here, I'll be right back."

"Oh no you don't!" Bilbo muttered, leaping to his feet and scurrying into the trees after her, "I didn't sign up to take on all this foolishness by myself, and I will be _damned_ if I'm going to let you swan off and leave me facing a _dragon_ all on my own! Not over a few blasted ponies!"

Brie smiled as he fell into step beside her, though her heart was pounding. Bilbo rarely swore. Somehow, the strong language made her feel better.

The two hobbits slipped through the forest for the second time that night, using more speed than stealth. The dwarves and trolls were quite loud enough to cover any sound of their passing, and Brie wasn't sure how long they actually had before one side claimed victory over the other. And no matter how this fight turned out, she really wanted to have at least _something_ to show for it.

They rushed toward the paddock and Brie tugged hopelessly at the knot holding the pen together. The rope was too thick. She could barely lift it, much less untangle the knot...

"Brie!"

She looked up just in time to see Bilbo toss the troll's knife with both hands, before sidestepping a large gray foot.

"Got it!" she yelled, holding out her arms and catching the unwieldy thing, stumbling under the weight. But she had it and she set to work on the rope with a furious vigor. The rope snapped. She threw open the pen and the ponies stampeded away into the night, hopefully to rejoin their fellows in safety...

...and quite suddenly Brie was yanked into the air, large, rough hands tugging painfully at her limbs, dangling over the ground that was now very far away. She saw the dwarves, just as they caught sight of her and froze.

"Briallen!" Kili shouted, charging valiantly toward the trolls, but Thorin grabbed the young dwarf and hauled him back.

"No!"

"Lay down your arms," one of the trolls said, "Or we'll rip his off."

Brie felt a sort of numb indignation that her captors had simply assumed her to be male. Perhaps they were too stupid to understand the concept of gender. Were there female trolls? She didn't want to die, certainly not like this, not pulled apart by big, stinking, _stupid_ trolls, but... if the dwarves laid down their weapons, they were all as good as dead. Dwalin was dead. Nori was dead. _Bilbo_ was dead, for he now stood among the dwarves looking up at her with wide, terrified eyes. She couldn't let that happen. She would not have all their lives on her conscience. She _would not._

She met Thorin's angry blue gaze and glared at him with all the force she could muster, telling him as clearly as she could without words:

 _Don't you do it, Thorin Oakenshield... Don't you DARE..._

Thorin narrowed his eyes, seemed to consider... and then planted his sword in the ground. The other dwarves quickly followed his example, throwing aside their weapons with furious glares at the trolls. Thorin was still glaring at Brie, but she didn't have the heart to do anything more than gape.

They were all going to die. And it was entirely her fault.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** Hey guys! Just a quick announcement, April is Camp NaNoWriMo, and I will be spending the month editing yet _another_ fanfic that I've been really excited about, this one a Loki fic set during his imprisonment before/during the Dark World. This means that updates during the next month will be sporadic, if they happen at all. Never fear! I have not abandoned you, and I assure you I will attempt to return to regularly scheduled updating in May! Until then, enjoy the next chapter! Thanks!

* * *

 **Chapter Six**

In retrospect, there were two things that Brie thought she really should have given more consideration in her initial overview of the decidedly undesirable situation the company found themselves in. The first was that, like so many before her, she failed to fully appreciate the complete _genius_ of a Baggins in a tight spot. And though Brie wore the name, Bilbo was a _Baggins_ through and through, capable of talking his way through any difficult situation, be it unwelcome calls by the Sackville-Bagginses, or the possibility of being eaten whole by three incredibly stupid trolls.

The second thing, was that she failed to recall a very simple rule of thumb, something all travelers really should remember if they find themselves caught in a particularly sticky situation:

Never forget your wizard.

And so it followed that, despite Brie's bleak prediction, the bright light of the new day shone down on three stone trolls and a company of thirteen dwarves, two hobbits, and a wizard, all very much alive with nothing more than a few scattered scratches and bruises between them.

Brie had never been so very happy to be wrong.

Her first act as a free hobbit was to hug her brother so tightly that he actually protested, claiming lack of air. She was grateful he was alive, of course, but more than that she so incredibly proud of him she could hardly stand it.

"You saved us, Bilbo," she whispered in his ear, "You saved us."

Bilbo pushed her away, and flapped his hands, and mumbled denials, but he could not hide his smile from her.

Her second act as a free hobbit was to help the unfortunate dwarves still tied to the huge spit over the dwindling fire. Gandalf had already begun the process (being the tallest of them) and he gladly accepted her offer of assistance, sending her clambering up the side of the spit to saw at the ropes ever so carefully with the troll knife, cutting each dwarf loose until they were all solidly back on the ground.

She was in the process of scrambling quite awkwardly down again, when she was swept up under the arms and set gently, but firmly on the ground before an uncharacteristically grave looking Nori.

"Are you alright?" he asked, no trace of his customary grin touching his face as he held her shoulders, examining her top to bottom, "They didn't hurt you, did they?"

"Why of course I'm alright, Mr. Nori," Brie replied cheerfully, brushing a stray curl out of her face, "I'm a sure thing, remember?"

She grinned and Nori's serious expression faded, replaced with a grin of his own rising almost unbidden to his lips. He squeezed her shoulders good-naturedly.

"That you most certainly are, sweet."

Unfortunately, Brie's overwhelming joy at their survival was short-lived. No sooner were they all freed of their bonds than Thorin was storming toward the two hobbits, wearing his darkest and most furious scowl.

"What in the name of the Great Maker did the two of you think you were doing?!"

Bilbo opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Brie stepped neatly in front of her brother and planted herself firmly before the dwarf king.

"I was rescuing the ponies," she declared, putting her hands on her hips and pointedly leaving Bilbo out of the proceedings, "I noticed they had been stolen in the night and I went to get them back. As I have signed a contract employing me as one of the company burglars, I figured that was my job."

"And you didn't think it might be wise to inform the rest of us of the situation?" Thorin growled, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"I had thought to just sneak in and out without causing any undue panic."

"Any undue...? Do you realize you almost got us all _killed?!_ "

"No thanks to you!" Brie snapped, quite losing her patience, "What did you mean, throwing your sword down like that? Are you completely daft?"

"They were going to kill you!"

"They were going to kill _all of us_!" Brie shouted, "You are a _king_! You are supposed to make the hard decisions, the ones no one wants to make! And when it is between the survival of one hobbit, whom you don't even particularly care for, and the safety of your whole blasted company, _my brother included_ , I would think the choice would be simple!"

"You would rather I let you sacrifice yourself?"

"Wouldn't you, if it were _your_ brother?!"

Brie regretted the words the moment they were spoken. Thorin reeled back as if she had struck him, and for one brief moment he looked… vulnerable. Brie didn't like it. She didn't like it at all.

"I... I'm sorry, I... I didn't..." she stuttered, words failing her utterly.

But as quickly as it had appeared, the look was gone, a mask of furious stone slamming down over his features. Thorin narrowed his eyes and took a step closer, crowding into her space. Brie stood her ground, but only just.

"Were it _my_ brother?" he growled, " _Never_ would I use my brother's love to justify my own reckless stupidity, or as an excuse to play martyr. Perhaps you should think more carefully before you dishonor your brother's love in such a way again, Miss Baggins."

An indignant fury (fueled by what might have possibly been a little bit of guilt) bubbled up in Brie, and for a moment she could not find the breath to speak. By the time she managed to open her mouth, Thorin had turned away from her, his eyes sweeping the company of dwarves that had gathered around them.

"Nori, Dwalin, Gloin, there will be a cave nearby. Find it. Ori, Fili, Kili, gather the ponies. The rest of you, pack up camp. We leave in an hour."

And then he stalked away, without as much as a backward glance. Brie got the distinct impression that she had just been... dismissed! _Dismissed!_ Like some disobedient servant! _Ooh_! That arrogant, pompous, self-centered...!

She didn't even realize that she had taken a step forward until someone snatched at her elbow, pulling her back.

"Best not, dear," Balin said, gently "I don't think either of you are in any fit state to continue this conversation at the present time," He smiled, "Not without bloodshed, at least. Now…"

He pushed at a lock of curly hair that had fallen out of her braids.

"What are we going to do about this?"

* * *

Despite Balin's earlier reluctance to braid Brie's hair, he was actually quite competent, and the braid he produced (a double stranded thing that came together in a swirling bun at the nape of her neck) seemed straight-forward and sturdy. But even after Balin had finished braiding her hair, something she would normally have found soothing, Brie couldn't seem to shake off her simmering anger. She continued to fume as she helped pack up what was left of their camp, and then waited for the others to finish whatever it was they were doing in the troll hoard (disgusting, nasty smelling thing; Brie refused to go within ten feet, much less enter the wretched place).

How _dare_ that kingly _brat_ try to throw the blame on her! And to say she was _using_ her brother! Of all the high-handed, insolent, overbearing... _nerve_! Granted, she might have made a _slight_ miscalculation regarding her burgling skills, she would admit that. But after all, she'd never _been_ a burglar before! How else was she supposed to properly assess her capabilities? And it certainly was _not_ her fault that the high and mighty King Under the blasted Mountain had been struck by some thrice-cursed sense of chivalry and felt the need to _throw down his arms_ for her! They had almost been _eaten_! His people! His _family_! _Her_ family! Of all the stupid, selfish, pig-headed...

"Briallen."

"What?" she snapped, and immediately regretted it.

She'd just snapped at a wizard. She was likely to get turned into a toad, and wouldn't that just be the frosting on her cake this morning? But Gandalf didn't seem in the least bit perturbed with her. In fact he was smiling, and rather fondly at that.

"That scowl does not suit you," he said, "Perhaps I can help ease your mind a little."

He held something out to her, two things actually, and it took a moment for the full realization of the items to properly hit her. In one hand was a quiver filled with smooth silver arrows. The other held a bow. It was intricately carved, designs of vines and leaves on the smooth white wood. It was clearly elven, but small, probably made for a child. But when Brie took it into her hand, it fit her palm well enough.

"I seem to recall you developed some skill in years past, when you had need of it," Gandalf said, his eyes dancing.

Brie heard the echo of wolf howls on a cold winter wind and saw the swirling of snow on the ice of a frozen river, but she thrust all that firmly from her mind.

"And I seem to recall my father saying I would put out an eye, likely as not," Brie replied with attempted light-heartedness, "I was only a child, Gandalf, that was many years ago."

"Old enough to do what needed doing," Gandalf said, "And I think there will be many things you'll have to risk before this is over, Briallen Baggins, least of which is the loss of an eye."

Brie opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted by a loud crash in the woods.

"Something's coming!" Thorin shouted.

"Brie?"

Bilbo scurried to her side seemingly out of nowhere, holding a little sword tightly in a shaking, two-fisted grip. Brie had no time to comment because Gandalf was herding the dwarves and hobbits together in a whirl of confused movement, and Brie had trouble just keeping her feet.

"Stay together!" Gandalf cried out, "Arm yourselves!"

Brie still had the bow in one hand, and with only a bit of difficulty she managed to sling the quiver across her back, drawing a silver arrow and putting it tentatively to the string. She didn't draw though; she didn't trust her old skills quite as much as the wizard did.

There was another crash and the company tensed. Then there was a loud shout.

"Thieves! Fire! _Murder_!"

A sledge (pulled by _gigantic_ rabbits!) burst into the clearing and slid to a harried stop. The man atop the sledge looked to be in a right state, his old, brown rags disheveled, his wiry gray hair at all angles (was that bird dung on his face?!) beneath his funny brown hat. He looked about wildly and Brie wondered if they ought to subdue the poor creature before he hurt someone (or himself for that matter).

"Radagast!" Gandalf exclaimed, and everyone relaxed a little bit, "Radagast the Brown! What on earth are you doing here?"

The man (wizard, Brie supposed, though he looked even less like a wizard than Gandalf) latched on to Gandalf's arm and fixed him with an intense stare.

"I was looking for you, Gandalf. Something's wrong. Something's terribly wrong."

"Yes?" Gandalf asked, looking skeptical to say the least.

Radagast opened his mouth. Then he stopped. He puzzled for a moment, and then tried again. Still nothing. At this point the poor dear started to look terribly put out, and Brie almost began to feel sorry for him.

"Oh, just give me a minute. Um..." The wizard rolled his eyes everywhere as if he might find his words written somewhere in the air above their heads, "Oh, I had a thought, and now I've lost it! It was, it was right there, on the tip of my tongue..."

He stuck his tongue out as if he might find his lost thought right there where he'd left it... and then his eyes went wide.

"Oh!" he exclaimed, as much as he could exclaim with his tongue still out, "It's not a thought at all; it's a silly old..."

He opened his mouth wide, and Gandalf reached out to gently pluck what looked like a twig out of the other wizard's mouth.

"...stick insect!" Radagast finished, just as Brie noticed that the twig was, in fact, alive. He held out his hand and Gandalf deposited the bug gently into Radgast's waiting palm. Brie wasn't quite sure whether to find this whole exchange strangely endearing, or wildly off-putting.

Gandalf put a friendly arm around the brown wizard's shoulders and together they walked off a few paces, speaking quietly amongst themselves. Satisfied that there was no immediate danger, the dwarves relaxed, putting away weapons and making themselves comfortable.

Something touched Brie's foot and she squeaked, dropping her silver arrow to clatter on the rocks beneath her.

"Oh!"

It was one of Radagast's large rabbits, now standing on hind legs and peering at her curiously. It came to her waist (taller if you counted the ears), long and lean with wiry brown hair and long whiskers that twitched with its pink nose. It observed her for a moment, then slowly leaned forward and gave her vest pocket a sniff.

"Oh," she said again, reaching into her pocket, "I see you've found me out."

She pulled out a piece of carrot that she had stashed yesterday, intending it as a treat for one of the ponies, and held it out.

"There you are," she said, "I suppose you earned it."

The rabbit took the bit of carrot gracefully in its teeth, and then dropped to all fours to nibble at the treat.

Brie bent to retrieve her fallen arrow, but before she could replace it in the quiver, it was snatched out of her hand by an unseen assailant.

"What do we have here, then?" Fili asked, holding the arrow up to glint in the sun's light.

While she was gaping at Fili, someone on her other side plucked the bow from her other hand.

"Look at it!" Kili said, wobbling the bow about between two fingers, "It's so flimsy! How are you expected to get any distance?"

Brie snatched the bow out of Kili's hand.

"Not all of us are lucky enough to be gifted with dwarven work, Master Kili," she snapped, "We must make do with what we have."

"Do you even know what to do with it?" Fili asked, handing back the arrow without having to be told.

"I used to," Brie said, "A long time ago."

"Well let's see it then!" Kili said, excitedly.

Brie balked.

"Oh no, I couldn't, it's been such a very long time..."

"Can't have been _that_ long," Fili said.

"You're not old enough for it to have been _that_ long," Kili agreed.

His eyes scanned the clearing.

"There!" He pointed into the forest, "That tree with the big knot in the middle."

Brie saw the tree. It wasn't that far away, maybe 20 yards, and she knew they were going easy on her. Still, it might as well have been a mile.

Fili nudged her good-naturedly.

"Come on," he said, "It's not like we're expecting you to be any good."

"Very low expectations," Kili agreed, nodding seriously, "I think we'd be impressed if you hit the tree at all... or any of the surrounding foliage really."

Brie rolled her eyes.

"Your confidence is over-whelming…" she said dryly, but she put her arrow to the string and took a breath. No one expected her to hit the mark after all. And Kili was an archer. She was sure she could use all the help she could get.

She pulled back the string, trying desperately to remember everything she had learned over thirty years ago, posture, angle, wind resistance, grip, sight. The bow was light and easier to draw than she'd expected, but her hands were trembling and no matter how much she tried she couldn't get them to stop. She sighted the bow as best she could, and loosed. The arrow flew through the air… and was lost in the undergrowth.

Brie lowered the bow with a disappointed sigh. She hadn't even gotten close. She clenched her still trembling hands and took a breath to calm her nerves. No one had expected her to be any good. No one but herself anyway.

"Don't worry, Miss Baggins," Fili said, clapping her on the shoulder, "At least it flew a good ways! When Kili first started, he could barely get the arrow off the string!"

"It's true," Kili said, "Embarrassing, but completely true. You clearly remember the basics, we'll just have to practice your form a bit, that's all. I'll help you!"

Brie smiled.

"Thank you, boys," she said, truly very grateful for their unflappable enthusiasm, "I'm sure a little bit of sleep would probably improve my performance a good measure."

"That too!" Kili said, grinning, "We can pick up lessons first thing tomor…"

There was a high-pitched howl in the distance and everything stopped.

"Wolves…" Brie whispered, feeling a chill go down her spine.

"Wolves?" Bilbo squeaked, scrambling to his feet and hiding behind the closest dwarf, which happened to be Bofur, "Are… Are there _wolves_ out there?"

"Wolves?" Bofur asked, his eyes wide and his mattock gripped so tightly his knuckles were white, "No, that is _not_ a wolf."

Not a…?

A dark shape leapt into the midst of the company, snarling and snapping viciously, before it was brought down by a sword strike to the head. Thorin jerked the blade from the creature's skull and Brie got a good look at it. It was certainly wolf-like, four-legged, toothy, and covered in fur, but it was definitely not like any wolf Brie had ever seen. And she had seen her fair share.

Brie was shoved backward by Fili just as another of the creatures bounded out of the trees and was caught in midair by one of Kili's arrows. It yelped and hit the ground, but tried to scramble to its feet only to be smashed in the head by one of Dwalin's axes.

"Warg scouts!" Thorin shouted, "Which means an orc pack is not far behind."

"Warg scouts?" Brie said.

"Orc pack?" Bilbo echoed.

But, of course, no one was listening to them.

"Who did you tell about your quest?" Gandalf asked, leveling an accusing glare at Thorin, "Besides your kin?"

"No one," Thorin answered.

"Who did you tell?!"

"No one, I swear!" Thorin shouted.

He looked… scared. Green Mother help them… Thorin was _scared_.

"What in Durin's name is going on?"

"You are being hunted," Gandalf answered.

Brie felt a cold dread creep over her. Hunted… like animals…

"We have to get out of here," Dwalin growled.

"We can't!" Ori cried, running out of the trees, "We have no ponies! They bolted!"

The company groaned. All of their supplies… everything but what they carried on their backs, gone. But looking at the two horrible creatures lying dead in their midst, Brie only found herself sincerely hoping that the poor ponies found their way safely home again.

"I'll draw them off."

Radagast seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, looking determined and far more like a wizard than he had previously.

"These are Gundabad wargs," Gandalf said, "They will outrun you!"

"These are Rhosgobel rabbits!" Radagast insisted, a nasty glint in his eye, "I'd like to see them try."

* * *

Brie managed to squeeze in between Gandalf and the rock face, peering past him across the open plains dotted here and there with a few rocky outcroppings and not much else. It was a lot of open space, and it was _crawling_ with wargs and their black riders. Brie had never seen an orc, but she didn't need to be told what she was looking at. They were too ugly to be anything, but evil. They patrolled the edge of the forest, both wargs and riders sniffing the air for any hint of their prey.

And then Radagast burst from the trees, his rabbits nothing more than a line of blurs zipping through the surprised wargs and flying over the grasslands.

"Come and get me!" the wizard cried with a delighted whoop as the wargs and orcs gave chase.

"By the Green Mother…" Brie whispered, a grin spreading on her face, "Look at them go!"

"Come on!" Gandalf said, pushing Brie forward with the rest of the company.

They rushed over the rocky plain, driven by fear and directed by Gandalf, the whoops of Radagast and the screams of orcs echoing in the not-quite-distance. A few times they were nearly spotted, and once only Thorin's quick reflexes saved Ori from running out into the midst of the orc chase.

"Where are you leading us?" Brie heard Thorin ask, leveling a suspicious glare at Gandalf.

Brie rolled her eyes.

"Who cares?!" she called out as she ran past, following the others and not bothering to check if Thorin had turned his glare on her. She simply assumed that he had.

They stopped to catch their breath for a moment in the shadow of a large group of rocks and Brie leaned on her knees, trying not to wheeze out of both fear and weariness. But suddenly, Dwalin's arm caught her across the chest and slammed her back against the rock, almost hard enough to knock loose what little breath she had gained. She suppressed the urge to gasp. She could hear the scrabbling of claws above them. Her whole body went very, very still.

Thorin glanced at Kili, who suddenly looked _so_ young, far too young to face wargs and orcs. Everything within Brie balked at the idea of Kili doing anything but hiding in the shadow of the rock. But the dwarf prince hardened his features, drew an arrow, took a breath and stepped out, loosing his bowstring with quick precision. There was a strangled cry, and a warg and orc dropped to the ground in front of them. But the warg wasn't dead, and neither was its rider, and the screams and screeches seemed to go on for an echoing eternity before the dwarves were finally able to silence them.

It was too late. The wargs howled as a pack in the distance and Brie knew that it was far, far too late.

"Move!" Gandalf shouted, " _Run!_ "

They ran and ran until Brie's lungs were burning, but it was not far or fast enough. She could see wargs on all sides of them, hear their snarls and orc shouts, could almost imagine she felt their hot breath on her neck. The dwarves ran until finally they could run no more. They were surrounded.

"There's more coming!" Kili screamed, as the wargs steadily approached, no longer chasing, no longer hunting. Their prey was cornered. They could afford to take their time.

"Kili, shoot them!" Thorin shouted.

It was then that Brie remembered the bow in her hand. A cold calm settled over her, something she had only felt once before, many years ago. She could smell the ice, feel the bite of snow on her cheeks, hear the snarl of the wolf pack stalking across the river…

And before her mind could catch up with her actions she was running, running out into the field, which her mind's eye had transformed from dead brown to swirling white. She set an arrow to the string, pulled back in the face of a charging warg…

No… not a warg…

A wolf.

She could kill a wolf.

She loosed her arrow and it embedded itself in a golden eye. The creature fell with a high-pitched howl and Brie had another arrow to the string, loosing again, this time burrowing in the chest of one that had tried to leap over its fellow. One tried to slip past her and she caught it in the throat as it ran, not even pausing to watch it pitch forward and writhe. Arrow after arrow flew from her bow, some embedded in thick fur with strangled howls, some in black flesh when she missed the mark, but the angry snarls were slowly surrounding her and she couldn't stop, if she stopped she was dead, they were _all_ dead…

Something caught her elbow and she whirled into a crouch, an arrow pulled…

It was Thorin.

"Run."

Suddenly Brie was back to herself, and together they sprinted toward a large boulder which, as they approached, Brie could see opened up into the mouth of a cave or tunnel of some kind. Together Brie and Thorin leaped onto the rock and slid into the crevice, Brie caught up in the arms of Nori at the bottom.

"Thought we might've lost you, sweet," he said before setting her on her feet.

Before Brie could respond she was unceremoniously tackled by her brother.

"What were you thinking, what were you doing, _never do anything like that again!_ "

"Bilbo…" Brie gasped, "Can't breathe…"

He released her, but then proceeded to grab her by the shoulders and shake her quite vigorously.

"You're trying to kill me, aren't you?" he shouted, "You're trying to give me a coronary, is that it? Briallen Baggins, for the sake of my nerves, could you please stop trying to get yourself killedfor _five minutes_?!"

Before Brie could regain her balance enough to reply, a horn sounded, clear and bright and definitely _not_ orkish. There was the sound of a struggle, clashing and banging, and suddenly a black form was launched over the rocks and tumbled down into their hiding place, a golden arrow lodged firmly in its throat. Thorin knelt by the body and pulled the arrow from the wound.

"Elves," he spat, throwing the arrow away in disgust.

Dwalin's voice echoed from farther inside the cave.

"I cannot see where the pathway leads! Do we follow it or no?"

"Follow it, of course!" Bofur exclaimed, scrambling after Dwalin down what Brie could now see was actually a path cut between two sheer cliffs.

The rest of them followed after, slipping single file through the narrow crevice, Bilbo holding tightly to Brie's hand as if he were afraid that she might start climbing the walls, or some such nonsense. As they ventured farther and farther down the path, Brie began to feel… something. Not exactly a tingling, not exactly a chill, not unpleasant, but not euphoric. It seemed to seep into her skin and resonate in her bones. She exchanged a glance with Bilbo. He could feel it too.

"Gandalf?" Bilbo asked, careful to keep his voice innocently curious, "Where are we?"

"You can feel it?" Gandalf murmured, raising his bushy eyebrows.

"Well… yes," Bilbo said.

"I feel it too," Brie added.

"It feels like…"

"Well…"

 _"Magic,_ " they both concluded.

"That's because it _is_ magic," Gandalf said, sounding pleased, "A very old magic."

They stepped into the open air and Brie's breath caught in her throat. A valley spread before them, peaceful and calm, only the sounds of birds and the falling of water echoing in the stillness.

"The Valley of Imraldis," Gandalf said, "In the Common Tongue, it's known by another name…"

" _Rivendell…_ " Brie and Bilbo breathed.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** Guess who's back! :D Sorry I was gone for so long, I had to recover from my Camp NaNoWriMo experience in April. But I'm here now, so let's get to it! :)

* * *

 **Chapter 7**

The decision (or rather proclamation) for Gandalf to do the talking, seemed a wise one. The dwarves were twitchy, nervous, but all Brie felt was an overwhelming awe at the beauty of the Last Homely House and the odd hum of magic brushing against her skin. Neither of these things was in any way unpleasant to her, but perhaps magic felt different to dwarves, set their teeth on edge.

They were met in the courtyard by a tall, graceful elf whom Gandalf greeted as Lindir. Though he seemed not at all interested in the grumbling party at Gandalf's back, the dwarves eyed him with immediate suspicion.

"Stay sharp," Thorin muttered to Dwalin, who nodded and adjusted his grip on his axe.

Brie could only roll her eyes.

A horn sounded in the distance, the same horn they had heard on the plains, and Brie turned toward the sound eagerly. Horses were galloping toward them over the narrow stone bridge, golden banners fluttering in the afternoon light... and then Brie was yanked backward by her collar, Nori shoving her into the middle of the quickly converging group of dwarves.

"Stay behind me, sweet."

"Oh, for heavens' sake..."

But Brie's huff of indignation was spoken over by Thorin, rumbling something in a guttural language Brie did not understand.

"Hold ranks!" he shouted.

The horses spilled into the courtyard, circling in graceful arcs, elven warriors in glittering armor peering down at them. They came to a halt around the growling, muttering dwarves, and though Nori's hand still held her back, he needn't have bothered. Brie did not think she could have moved if she'd wanted to, being completely frozen in astonishment.

"Gandalf!"

One of the elves descended his horse and approached the wizard, a cheerful smile on his face.

"Lord Elrond," Gandalf answered, bowing and greeting the elf in what Brie recognized as Sindarin. Her knowledge of the language was limited (Bilbo was the scholar, not her, despite her father's insistent tutelage), but she recognized the word for 'friend' and a few others as the elf lord and the wizard exchanged pleasantries.

"Strange for orcs to come so close to our borders," Lord Elrond said, switching fluidly into Westron, "Something, or _someone_ , has drawn them near."

He spared a mischievous glance at the huddled dwarves, who still stood battle-ready, weapons in hand.

"Ah!" Gandalf said, as if just remembering their existence, "That may have been us."

Thorin stepped forward as if on cue, and Brie was struck suddenly by just how very... king-like he was. Lord Elrond appeared to recognize it too, for all traces of mirth disappeared from his face and he stood taller and more regal in his presence.

"Welcome Thorin, son of Thrain."

Thorin inclined his head ever so slightly.

"I do not believe we have met."

Even his voice had taken on the music of majestic, but Brie could hear the contempt laced beneath the tone, so subtle as to be barely noticeable, except to those who had the misfortune to hear it often. She supposed she counted as one of that number.

"You have your grandfather's bearing," Lord Elrond replied, "I knew Thror when he ruled under the Mountain."

"Indeed?" Thorin said, "He made no mention of you."

And _that_ had not been subtle at all! If Brie had not been holding on to her dignity by the merest scrap of decorum, she might have slapped her forehead in despair. Green Mother, _save them_ from the arrogance of dwarf kings...

But the elf lord only smiled, a small twitch at his lips that could not be interpreted as either laughter or contempt. It was somewhere in the middle, Brie suspected.

"Oh!" he said, turning back to his horse with the flitting quickness of one who has just caught something out of place, "Have you also an elf-child in your midst, Mithrandir? My people found these scattered amongst the dead when we arrived at the doorway to the pass and thought they might belong to one of your number."

And from his saddle bag, Lord Elrond produced a glittering handful of sliver arrows.

"Those are mine!" Brie delightedly exclaimed, before she remembered herself and snapped her mouth shut, clasping her hands behind her like a faunt in anticipation of being scolded.

But no scolding came. Lord Elrond raised a delicate eyebrow, but his smile was now genuinely pleased, if a bit surprised.

"Then I return them to you with thanks, Mistress Hobbit," he said, "For not an arrow was found that had missed a mark, and many an evil beast was slain in their passing."

Everyone turned to stare at Brie, who could do little more than gape, and then blush a hot crimson as she shuffled through the wide-eyed dwarves to take the arrows from the elf lord's outstretched hand.

"These were forged in the land of Gondolin, by the high elves of the West," Lord Elrond said, "As was the bow you now carry on your back if I'm any judge. May they continue to serve you well, little Shireling, as I am sure they served those before you."

His smile was soft and kind, and he did not look at her as most of the Big Folk did, as if she were insignificant or quaint. She returned his smile.

"Thank you, my lord," she said, dropping a small curtsy and replacing the arrows in her quiver.

Lord Elrond looked over her head at the dwarves, who were eerily silent at her back. After a long pause, he spoke in a smooth Sindarin, most of which Brie did not catch.

"What is he saying?" she heard in Gloin's distinctive brogue, "Does he offer us insult?!"

Brie turned to stare in horror as the other dwarves burst into a variety of grumbles and growls, shifting uneasily in their group, weapons gripped tightly in hands.

"No!" Brie shouted desperately, fearing that the elves, though gracious, might have enough of this foolishness at any moment and turn them all out, "No, you silly things, he said _food_!"

That made the dwarves pause, several pairs of eyes turning round to stare at her again.

"He... said _something_ about food, at any rate," She glanced up at Lord Elrond, who once again raised that perfect eyebrow at her, "Right?"

Lord Elrond only smiled. Gandalf huffed.

"Quite right, Miss Baggins," the wizard grumbled, "He is offering you food."

The dwarves glanced at each other, and then pulled inward to confer amongst themselves for a moment. Finally, Gloin cleared his throat.

"Well," he said gruffly, "In that case, lead on!"

Brie could not resist the urge to roll her eyes again.

* * *

It was rather disappointing to note that apparently dwarves were bad house guests no matter what race was hosting. But rather than reverting into rambunctious tweens, as they had at Bag End (which hadn't been nearly so bad, once you had a glass of wine or two), in the presence of elves the dwarves seemed to regress even farther, more toward the stage of sulky fauntlings. It was, frankly, enough to make one hang one's head and claim no further acquaintance.

Bilbo and Brie sat side by side at the table, eating their (quite delicious, no matter what the dwarves said!) salads and occasionally exchanging long-suffering glances. Between the deplorable table manners, the whining (if she heard Ori say one more thing about _green food_...), and Kili ogling the more attractive of their elven hosts (though the subsequent back-pedaling had been good for a laugh), it was enough to make any decent hobbit cringe, especially a Baggins. And though Brie would gladly admit that she was mostly Took in nature, she had enough Baggins in her to be sufficiently indignant on the elves' behalf.

She took a sip of her wine and caught Nori eying an ornate salt shaker, turning it over appreciatively and glancing about as he slowly opened his jacket and... Brie slapped his hand, sending the shaker clattering to the table.

"Ow!"

"Stop that!" Brie snapped, "You are a _guest_!"

Nori had the good sense to look a bit sheepish as he nursed his injured hand, but he did not apologize, and in fact _grinned_ at her! Brie groaned and looked toward the head of the table, thinking that she might at least find some form of support.

But if she had been expecting any help from the supposed _leader_ of this rabble, her hopes were quickly dashed. Thorin sat with his arms crossed and a dark scowl on his face, looking for all the world like a fauntling about to throw a fit. Suddenly the dwarf was on his feet, for no reason that Brie could easily discern, his glower leveled at Lord Elrond.

"Excuse me," he growled, before decidedly stalking away.

If decorum had allowed it, Brie would have thrown up her hands, but instead she only drained her goblet and reached for the wine decanter. She was going to need more than just a glass or two, she suspected.

Nori took it upon himself to make this immediately apparent when he leaned back and shouted over his shoulder at the harpist.

"Change the tune already! I feel like I'm at a funeral!"

"Did somebody die?" Oin exclaimed, a cloth napkin stuffed into his ear trumpet.

Brie groaned and drained a second goblet. She was feeling a trifle light-headed, but not nearly at a rate that she could possibly feel _good_ about any part of this situation.

Bofur slammed his hands on the table, a mischievous grin on his face.

"Alright lads, there's only one thing for it!"

At which point he promptly found his way on _top_ of the table, kicking bowls of greenery in every direction as he passed.

 _"Theeerree's aaaaaaaaannn..."_ he drew out in a lovely tenor vibrato that brought all other music to a drifting halt. Even Brie sat up expectantly, despite her inner Baggins balking at the feet on the table. The wine was proving especially helpful in suppressing her more Baggins-ly traits.

Bofur paused, dramatically.

 _"...inn, there's an inn, there's a merry old inn_

 _Beneath an old grey hill!_

 _And there they brew a beer so brown_

 _That the Man in the Moon himself came down_

 _One night to drink his fill!"_

"Oh, I know this one!" Brie shouted excitedly despite herself. She knew so very few of the songs the dwarves were apt to sing, anything familiar seemed a delightful treat.

"Well, go on then!" Nori exclaimed, grinning widely, "Up you get!"

And before Brie could spout a word of protest, Bofur had snatched her out of her seat and hoisted her onto the table.

"Oh, oh no, I couldn't, I couldn't possibly..." Brie sputtered, but it was all for naught, drowned out by the cheering of dwarves and the singing of Bofur.

 _"The ostler has a tipsy cat_

 _That plays a five-stringed fiddle..."_

He paused and waited, grinning at her. There was nothing for it. Brie clasped her hands behind her as respectably as she could and took up the song.

 _"And up and down he runs his bow,_

 _Now squeaking high…!"_

She hit a high, trembling note that made the others go quiet for a moment, but did not deter Bofur in the least.

 _"Now purring low..."_ he sang, mimicking the movements of a bow over fiddle strings. He winked at her and Brie could not help herself. She smiled.

And together they sang, _"Now sawing in the middle!"_

"Take it away, lass!" Bofur cried and Brie was off.

 _"They also keep a horned cow_

 _As proud as any queen!_

 _But music turns her head like ale,_

 _And makes her wave her tufted tail,_

 _And dance upon the green!"_

She twirled and hopped across the table as salad went flying and loud cheers erupted.

 _"And ooooooooh…!"_ Bofur sang,

 _"The rows of silver dishes,_

 _And the store of silver spoons!_

 _For Sunday there's a special pair,_

 _And these they polish up with care_

 _On Saturday afternoons!"_

He passed to Brie again, who felt more than a little light in the head, and her feet could not stay still, and the words were falling from her tongue so quickly that she wasn't sure how she kept up.

 _"So the cat on the fiddle played hey-diddle-diddle,_

 _A jig that would wake the dead!_

 _He squeaked and sawed and quickened the tune,_

 _While the landlord shook the Man in the Moon..."_

And all the dwarves shouted:

 _ **"'It's after three!' he said!"**_

 _"With a ping and a pong the fiddle-strings broke!"_ Bofur cried.

 _"The cow jumped over the Moon!"_ Brie sang, leaping lightly over a salad bowl and whirling to face her partner at the other end.

 _"And the little dog laughed to see such fun..."_

 _"And the Saturday dish went off at a run..."_

 _"With the silver Sunday spoon!"_

Bofur caught her in his arms and spun her 'round the table, setting her bouncing on her feet.

 _"The round Moon rolled behind the hill..."_

 _"As the Sun raised up her head!"_ Brie sang,

 _"She hardly believed her fiery eyes,_

 _For though it was day, to her surprise..."_

And Bofur cried, _"They all went back to bed!"_

He collapsed at her feet, feigning sleep, while all the dwarves roared and cheered and banged whatever was to hand on the table. Brie caught her brother's horrified expression, and knew somewhere in her mind that she should feel ashamed. But the dwarves were still cheering, and Bofur was laughing, swinging her through the air, and no one was sulking anymore, and somehow she just could not think of that as such a bad thing.

Lord Elrond's face was lit with a look of quiet amusement, and though Brie still did not entirely regret her actions, she at least understood that she had possibly trod upon their host's dignity and kindness, and that deserved to be rectified. So she met his gaze with a bold smile and did her very best curtsy (well, the best she could do in trousers anyway), right there on the table.

Lord Elrond laughed. Actually _laughed_.

"Oh, my dear child!" he exclaimed, "What a gracious creature you must be in your home so far away, that even in the midst of revelry you would spare a thought for your host. On the morrow, I shall make certain that you have raiment worthy of such a lovely gesture."

"Here now, what's wrong with what she's wearing?" Nori snapped.

Only then did Brie notice that the dwarves had gone unusually still. Bofur stood close by her side, tensed to leap forward at any moment, as if he thought she might be… attacked! _Attacked_! In such a house as this! It was completely preposterous.

The elf lord seemed not to notice the heightened tension, and answered Nori's question with a nobility and tact that Brie was certain not a single one of the brutes deserved.

"On the contrary, Master Dwarf, I find Miss Baggins' attire perfectly acceptable, and in fact quite resourceful for the journey your company has undertaken. But surely you must admit that there is a distinct lack of the requisite fundamentals for such a formal gesture as a curtsy. And it does seem a shame that such a fine genuflection should be diminished by as trifling a thing as a missing skirt, don't you agree?"

Lord Elrond's flowing speech and excellent vocabulary brought the dwarves to puzzled, frustrated silence long enough for Brie to pipe up and settle the matter herself.

"I am honored by your generosity, Lord Elrond, but I would never wish to impose upon you in such a fashion, or to take advantage of your gracious hospitality..."

Lord Elrond was already waving away her polite protests.

"Say no more, Miss Baggins. It would bring me great happiness to provide you with finery as can be found to become you in a fashion such as your fine manners recommend. In fact, I insist upon it."

He was smiling, but Brie accepted (with not much of a fight, if she was honest) that the discussion was now closed. She dropped another small curtsy.

"I thank you for your kindness, my lord."

The dwarves began to grumble, but after a stern look from Brie, said no more on the subject.

* * *

Brie and Bilbo were offered a bedchamber in Lord Elrond's house, which they gladly and graciously accepted. Though Bilbo still seemed a bit put out by Brie's performance at dinner, Brie found that the idea of sharing a room with him as they had when they were faunts, appealed to her. It brought back recollections of happier, simpler times, when their world had only consisted of each other, and the idea that their parents would ever be more than a hall's length away was unthinkable. She had not realized until this night that she still retained such memories.

Considering the lack of more than a nap the previous night, the excitement and terror of the day, and no small amount of elven wine consumed at dinner, Brie had every expectation of falling into the large feather bed and dropping immediately into unconsciousness. This is exactly what happened to Bilbo, but to Brie's surprise she found herself lying in bed, listening to her brother's steady breathing, completely and utterly awake. It took several agonizing minutes for her to determine the source of her abominable wakefulness. The room was too quiet. After weeks of sleeping in close proximity to thirteen dwarves, the gentle sounds of water and the hushed chorus of insects in the stillness of the night was no longer sufficient to ease her thoughts.

Once she had determined the source of her unrest, the silence became almost stifling. Her mind wandered in the void left by the absence of sound. She thought about the ponies, and imagined them making their way steadily homeward. She thought about the trolls, forever frozen in time, grotesque caricatures of the terror they had once inflicted. She thought about Radagast and his rabbits, and hoped that they had made it safely out of danger. She thought about Thorin's brother...

She sat up and slipped out from under the soft sheets. It would not do, lying in the dark, her mind whirling unproductively in ever spiraling circles. She padded across the room and stepped into the hallway, Bilbo never once stirring in her absence. She would just peek in on the dwarves, ease her mind as to their state and whereabouts, and then return to bed. Her brother would never even know she had gone.

The company of dwarves had also been offered rooms and beds, but had (quite rudely, in Brie's opinion) refused, choosing instead to make a sort of camp in one of the many courtyards, open to the fresh air and easier to defend (though this last point had remained mostly inferred, rather than spoken). It was quite simple to find, just up the hall and down a flight of stairs. Brie could hear the chorus of grunts and snores before she had even reached the end of the corridor. She paused on the landing and peered over the railing.

Fili and Kili leaned against the far wall together, Fili's chin tucked into his chest, while his brother twitched at a blonde braid tickling his nose in his sleep. Dori, Ori, and Nori were huddled together, Ori squashed between his two older brothers. Bombur was spread over quite a large area, looking as if he might have simply dropped where he stood and fallen asleep, with Bofur curled close to him and Bifur nearby, a bit of wood drooping in one hand and his knife on the floor beside him. The other dwarves were all in similar states of rather comical and endearing repose, and Brie smiled fondly at the creatures. Just seeing them made her begin to feel drowsy and she turned to slip quietly back to her room...

She jumped and covered her mouth to smother the gasp in her throat.

"Forgive me," Thorin said, stepping out of the shadow of the archway, "I did not mean to startle you."

"No, it's... it's alright," Brie said breathlessly, trying to slow her pounding heart, "I... I was just..."

She gestured over the banister in the general direction of the snoring.

"...checking," she finished weakly.

Thorin nodded, his eyes drawn over the balcony, as if she had _not_ just given the most pitiful excuse for her presence in the history of poor excuses.

"Shouldn't you be with them?" she asked.

"I took the first watch."

"Is that _really_ necessary?" she asked, trying not to sound exasperated, "I mean, do you really think we're in danger here?"

"We are always in danger," he answered, fixing his burning eyes on her, "This quest is _always_ in jeopardy, from elves as much as evil, for elves meddle where they have no place and turn deaf ears when it suits them. There is no more dangerous enemy than one that masquerades as a friend."

"Wolves in sheep's clothing," Brie murmured, and then shuddered, turning away. She didn't want to think about wolves.

The quiet night surrounded them, broken by the sounds of the sleeping dwarves, but peaceful just the same.

"Should you not be abed, Miss Baggins?" Thorin asked, "Will your brother not wonder at your absence?"

"Bilbo won't even know I'm gone," Brie said, "He was asleep almost before he hit the pillow."

"But not you."

Brie shrugged.

"Too much excitement, I suppose. My thoughts refused to settle."

She turned her face up to him and smiled. He was staring at her blankly and it reminded Brie that the two of them were not exactly on friendly terms at the moment. Perhaps he was trying to get rid of her, to give her a gentle hint that he did not desire her company on his watch. But then again, Thorin had never struck Brie as one to resort to subtle hints to make his point.

Thorin's brow suddenly furrowed in a puzzled expression and, out of nowhere, his hand reached for her. Brie jerked back, more out of surprise than anything, and Thorin paused, frozen, looking for all the world like he had not realized what he was doing. Then he clasped his hands firmly behind his back, as if to restrain himself.

" _What_ is in your hair?" he asked, familiar contempt evident in his voice.

Her… what?

Brie had undone Balin's braid (with a great deal of reluctance), but had only managed to comb through her hair briefly with her fingers before falling into bed in anticipation of a good night's sleep. She reached tentatively into her curls and came away with a piece of leafy green _something_ in her fingers. She sighed.

"Salad, most likely."

Thorin raised an eyebrow.

"Salad?"

Brie felt a blush creep over her cheeks. She was grateful for the dark.

"Well," she said, "It got a bit... that is to say, there was a bit of a ruckus at dinner... after you'd gone."

Thorin sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Of course it did," he muttered, "Are you alright?"

That startled Brie quite thoroughly.

"I... well... yes, of course, I'm... I'm fine, why wouldn't I be?"

She winced. She hadn't meant to sound quite so harsh. Why was it that the dwarf king seemed to bring out only the very worst in her? She had never been what decent hobbitfolk might consider 'tactful', but something about _this_ dwarf in particular seemed to set her off balance in the worst way.

"I'm sorry," she blurted out before Thorin could speak, "Sorry, I didn't... That didn't sound the way it was supposed to. I do that a lot."

She felt the beginnings of a ramble, but whether it was the wine or the lack of sleep, she couldn't seem to stop herself.

"I'm sorry about your brother too, about what I said earlier, I mean. I didn't mean it the way it sounded. I know you would do anything... I mean, I know _I_ would... What I'm trying to say is... I'm really very sorry."

Well... she had certainly succeeded in making _that_ a spectacular mess. Thorin was staring at her, searching her face in the dark, and Brie was wracking her brain for some way to make a marginally graceful exit, unwilling to prolong her embarrassment any longer than necessary...

"I believe I also owe you an apology."

…wait, what?

"I lost my temper," Thorin continued in a crisp tone, gazing into the clear night beyond the balcony, hands still clasped behind him, "That is unacceptable, even in such trying circumstances as I've had to endure these past weeks."

Brie narrowed her eyes. _'Trying circumstances'_? She could only assume he was referring to her very presence, which he had opposed vehemently from the beginning. She could feel the return of simmering resentment, but she clenched her fists and tried to keep it in check. She did _not_ want to start another fight, not so soon after the last one.

"I suppose that makes us even then," she said, in a tone that was a little more clipped than she would have liked.

Thorin met her eyes and then inclined his head.

"I suppose so."

"Excellent," Brie snapped, "We can start hating each other afresh in the morning. Good night, your majesty."

She bobbed a half-curtsy and stalked back off to bed, not sure if she would sleep, but knowing that nothing here was doing her any favors.

She did not see Thorin rub his eyes after she had gone, nor did she hear the frustrated sigh that escaped him.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** I'm back! I know, it's been a while, I over committed myself and had to take a break for a little bit. But I'm trying to get back into the swing of this story, there's SO MUCH I want to explore here! Thank you so much for the reviews and encouragement that's been sent my way in the meantime, I really appreciate it :) This chapter was really hard for me to get through, I had to rewrite it like five times and I'm still not sure I'm happy with it, but if I have to read over it one more time I'm gonna scream, so here we go! Enjoy! :)

* * *

 **Chapter Eight**

Lord Elrond wasted no time making good on his word. The next morning, an elf maid appeared at Brie and Bilbo's door, bearing armfuls of clothes and a cheery optimism. Bilbo had better luck than Brie, and was soon in possession of a new jacket and waistcoat, with several pairs of trousers and shirts to match, and the promise that his original things would be washed and mended. Unfortunately, the dresses Brie was presented with appeared to have been made for elfling girls, so while the length was correct, most were a bit too slim fitting for comfort, and even the maid's skill with a needle was not enough to alter the garments sufficiently.

Of the whole lot, there was only one that Brie deemed tolerable, a pretty green shimmering thing, far finer than anything Brie had ever _seen_ , much less worn. She did insist that the hem be taken up quite a measure, much more than the poor maid wished, leaving the skirt swishing about Brie's ankles rather than draping the floor as it was meant to. She didn't like things covering her feet. The sleeves were also too long, and Brie was able to convince the elf to alter them to fit snuggly just below her elbows rather than draping about all over the place. She didn't need that drooping nonsense getting in the way. She had planned to leave her hair loose of her braids for now, allowing it to curl about her shoulders, but the elf maid insisted on doing _something_ with it and, since Brie felt she had made herself a bit of nuisance, she indulged her, allowing her to pull just the front half back from her face, securing it with pins and little white flowers. It was a bit more practical, at any rate, keeping it from flying into her eyes. Brie caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror on her way out and thought she looked decently presentable. A bit too elegant for her nature, but after all she was wearing elf-clothes. One couldn't be choosy.

It wasn't until she was making her way down to the dwarves 'camp' that she realized she might have made an error in judgment. The sudden quiet as she descended the stairs with Bilbo was the first hint. The various stares were another. And they were not the good kind of stares.

"What in Durin's name are you wearing?" Dwalin growled, arms crossed, a scowl on his face.

Despite herself, Brie glanced down to check that everything was appropriately in place, but she didn't see anything amiss.

"A dress, Master Dwarf," she replied, haughtily, "I have worn one before, you know."

"Not like _that,_ you haven't," Fili said, a smirk curling his lips.

"You look like an elf!" Kili exclaimed, clearly trying his best not to burst out laughing.

Brie felt her face growing hot and she stubbornly crossed her arms.

"I do not!" she snapped.

"Sure you do!" Kili said, no longer able to contain his snickers, "Look at the ears!"

Brie self-consciously touched the anatomy in question. She quite liked her ears, always had, but she did have to admit (if only to herself) that they were rather... well... elf-like. Combined with the dress and her surroundings... she supposed she probably _did_ look a bit like an elf. A short, stubby elf with big feet, and no grace or beauty to speak of, but an elf all the same.

She wondered for a moment why she felt so offended by the idea. Were the dwarves rubbing off on her? Was their prejudice contagious? Or was it just the varying looks of displeasure and outright scorn, mingled with barely concealed derision? They were laughing at her. The dwarves had always been quite prone to laughter, but they had never actually laughed _at_ her before. It was... upsetting, more than she would have suspected and she shied away, trying to find any place to rest her eyes... and found Thorin. He was watching her, but he wasn't laughing. He wasn't... well, anything really, his expression completely unreadable as ever and when she met his eyes he quickly looked away, turning his gaze over the edge of the courtyard as if it were all so far below his royal notice. Even that stung, and that was how Brie knew how deeply she had been hurt, that even Thorin's expected scorn could sting.

Dwalin sighed and took a step toward her.

"At least let's do something with your hair..."

"No."

Bilbo stepped between Brie and the dwarves, his shoulders rigid, his fists clenched at his sides. Dwalin paused.

"No, I don't think so," Bilbo said, his words clipped and sharp, "Not today. My sister is lovely _just_ as she is, thank you _very_ much."

There was a long, tense moment of silence. Dwalin glanced over Bilbo's shoulder at Brie, and when she said nothing in contradiction, Dwalin's customary scowl momentarily faltered. He was hurt. Brie felt an icy prick of satisfaction and immediately regretted it. The dwarves had hurt her, it was true. But she did not wish to hurt them back.

"Come on, Brie," Bilbo said, taking her arm and shooting a nasty look over his shoulder in the dwarves' general direction, "Let's go look for the gardens. Maybe the elves will let you dig something up and kill it."

He'd meant it as a joke (though a weak one), and Brie managed to produce a smile for him as she let him lead her away. The dwarves watched them go, but no one spoke to keep them. Why would they? It wasn't as if they were _really_ a part of their group. They didn't even want them there, it was Gandalf that had forced their hand, and _no one_ had wanted Brie along in the first place! She had been deluding herself, thinking they would ever really be _friends_ , the lot of them. After all, they weren't dwarves. They were hobbits. Pointy-eared, silly, _stupid_ hobbits.

* * *

The Baggins twins spent the day in a lovely little garden in the middle of a deserted courtyard and, though Brie did _not_ dig up (and subsequently _kill)_ anything, by the end of it, she had firmly decided that she was really being quite silly about the whole affair. She didn't even particularly _like_ the elf dress! And though she cared not one wit for the dwarves' opinion of her (at least that's what she told herself in retrospect), if the ridiculous thing was going to cause so much distress, it would ultimately be better on all sides if she simply didn't wear it anymore.

That evening she unpacked her own dress, a sturdy cream and brown day dress, fully hobbit-made, and at dinner that night Lord Elrond made a specific point to compliment her choice, saying that nothing in his House could possibly suit her better. It was a bit of an awkward meal, but at the end of it, Fili and Kili (after much nudging and muttering and at least three pointed glares shared between them) managed to approach her and make their stumbling way through an apology that, while not eloquent, Brie found helplessly endearing, and she could not help but forgive them instantly.

The next morning, the clothes she had borrowed from her brother were returned to her, laundered, mended, and tailored to fit her much better than they had before, along with a few sets of new things in the same style. She accepted and changed into these more appropriate garments gratefully, anxious for what the new day held for her. Kili, enamored of Brie's triumphant performance on the rocky plains, had been eager to begin their archery training, and so Brie had agreed to dedicate her mornings to the prince's instruction. However, once on the practice field they were both disappointed to discover that her exceptional show of skill was not to be repeated. But rather than deter Kili, this only seemed to spur him on, insistently optimistic as ever, and as Brie could not bear to disappoint him, she agreed to continue her lessons, though she could not bring herself to feel the same optimism.

It took only a day or two for Brie to miss Dwalin's sturdy braids. She had gone back to braiding her hair herself, but her own work wasn't nearly as hard-wearing, and by the end of her training with Kili it was always flying about, sticking to her face and just generally vexing her. But Dwalin had made no move to even speak to her since the unfortunate incident with the elf dress. And though no one had mentioned it again, a little knot remained in the back of Brie's mind, a malicious whisper that would not be silenced: She was not truly wanted here. The princes indulged her, of course, they were young and prone to foolish fancies. But the others, they did not really want her here. She was here through pure technicality, nothing more or less. And that little whisper effectively prevented her from approaching Dwalin, even in some sort of peace offering. She knew she had hurt him in her refusal of his offer to braid her hair, but she had been hurt too, and her pride would not allow her to apologize when ultimately she still felt like the one that had been faulted.

This gap was breached in the most unlikely fashion imaginable. And by the most unlikely person: Nori.

* * *

Though Brie's mornings were tied up in archery with Kili, and she spent the majority of her afternoons exploring Rivendell with Bilbo, the Baggins twins tended to spend their evenings with the dwarves, listening to their songs and laughter from the shadows more often than not, but still present at least. It was on one of these evenings that Brie decided it was high time to address the most important instruction of all, the thing that both she and Bilbo's employment (and _survival_ ) seemingly hinged upon. And in her mind, there was only one dwarf for the job.

Brie had seen Nori nick enough items (albeit with varying degrees of success) to get the general impression that he was going to be the most knowledgeable candidate for the training that both she and her brother were clearly in such desperate need of. She had been considering the possibility of approaching the dwarf for some time now, but although she imagined Nori's... _predilections_ were quite common knowledge amongst the other dwarves (and in fact were probably one of the reasons he was on this quest in the first place), she wasn't entirely certain it would be wise to discuss such proclivities openly.

Unfortunately, finding a spare moment to speak to him alone was nigh on impossible. The dwarves didn't trust the elves. And so, as a precaution (one that Brie believed to be completely unnecessary and bordering on ludicrous), they traveled everywhere as a group, hardly ever separating even into smaller units. While Brie and Bilbo wandered freely about every inch of Rivendell, the dwarves rarely strayed from their courtyard camp, except for meals and sometimes not even then. They huddled around their small fire (Brie did not ask where they got the wood, and tried not to notice when pieces of elven furniture came up missing), laughing and singing and speaking only amongst themselves.

So when she happened to notice that Ori had set himself off to the side by himself tonight with his sketchbook, and his brother had subsequently followed (presumably to harass the poor dear mercilessly), Brie decided to throw caution to the wind and take the opportunity as it presented itself. It wasn't an _ideal_ moment maybe, but if she was going to have this discussion in front of a witness, she would much rather it be the quiet, mild-mannered Ori than, say their eldest (and far more conventionally minded) brother.

Brie left Bilbo in a sheltered corner of the courtyard with his pipe and approached the brothers, folding herself neatly next to Ori and keeping Nori at her back. Ori smiled at her companionably and Brie leaned in to catch a glimpse of what the younger dwarf was drawing. It was a sketch of the courtyard, all the dwarves seated about the fire engaged in various activities. There was even the barest hint of Bilbo and Brie, set back from the group, though this portion of the drawing had not been filled in quite so well as the others. It reminded Brie of how very much apart from the dwarves she and her brother were, and she tried not to think about it over much. Instead she pointed to the likeness of Bofur, who was depicted juggling a goblet, an apple, and what looked like a candlestick.

"You've captured him quite well there," she said, "It looks as if he might move at any moment."

Ori blushed and ducked his head, using his pinky finger to carefully shade in the figure of Bifur, carving quietly by the fire as was his habit. That dwarf was always carving something. Brie watched Ori work for a few more moments before she spoke again.

"Oh Nori," she said, turning to keep her voice low and her tone casual in case it carried, "I wondered if you might be available to give Bilbo and I a bit of... _assistance_ in a particular area."

Nori raised one braided eyebrow, taking a contemplative puff on his pipe as his lips turned up in a smirk.

"How mysterious," he said finally, "Care to elaborate as to the nature of this... _assistance,_ sweet? _"_

"Well, you see, it has recently come to our attention that the field to which your company and king have secured our employment is one in which we are painfully lacking sufficient skill and practice," Brie gave Nori a pointed, knowing look, "It is my understanding that you are the member of the company best suited to address such concerns, and so we thought perhaps you might be willing to give us a few tips."

Ori snorted and Nori rapped him lightly on the back of the head with his pipe bowl.

"Here now," Nori said, "It's a perfectly reasonable request!"

"But she's _asking_..."

"I _know_ what she's asking, I'm not deaf!"

This only seemed to make things worse. Ori pressed a hand over his mouth, his shoulders shaking with repressed laughter.

"Oh!" he gasped, "Oh, if Dori finds out, he will be _beside_ himself! Fit to be _tied_!"

Nori ignored him, turning his clever eyes back to Brie, the stem of his pipe clutched between his teeth as he took several thoughtful puffs.

"What's in it for me, then?"

Brie blinked.

"I'm sorry?"

"Well, you want me to impart my extensive wealth of knowledge to you, what do I get for it?"

"What would you like?"

The words tumbled out of Brie's mouth before she had really thought them through, surprise loosening her tongue far more than she would have preferred. She had not expected a negotiation.

Nori's lips spread in a sly smile that Brie did not trust even one bit, and he leaned forward until the smoke drifting from the bowl of his pipe tickled her nose.

"Teach me the song."

Brie stared at him for a moment, quite taken aback.

"S... Song?"

"Yes, the one you sang that night in the rain," he said, his eyes gleaming in the light of the distant fire, "Sing it for me, let me learn it."

Brie stared at him for another long moment, her mouth nearly agape. The _lullaby_? That was what he wanted, her mother's old lullaby? It felt like a lifetime ago she had sung that song as Dwalin braided her hair. But she remembered with sudden vivid clarity the expression of jealous longing flickering over Nori's face in the light of that long ago fire (had it really only been a week?), the same expression that flickered over his features now.

 _Sing it again, sweet..._

"Alright," Brie agreed and the look on Nori's face was a picture of intense triumph, "I'll teach you the song. Will you help us?"

Nori smirked and bowed at the waist.

"At your service, Miss Baggins," he said, "As always."

Ori snorted another laugh and this time it was Brie who ignored him, setting herself a bit straighter and meeting Nori's mischievously twinkling eyes.

"Well then," she said, primly, "Shall we begin?"

She closed her eyes and let the fire warm her face for a moment before she took a breath and started.

"Golden slumber kiss your eyes,

Smiles await you when you rise,

Sleep my darling, don't you cry,

I will sing a lullaby."

"Cares you know not while you sleep,

And I..."

She trailed off and opened her eyes. An unexpectedly sweet tenor voice had joined her, just a hum in the second verse, a harmony that she didn't recognize. Nori's eyes were closed, his arms wrapped around his knees, his brow furrowed slightly in concentration as he hummed and swayed in time to the song that Brie had abruptly stopped singing. He opened his eyes and quirked his head to the side.

"Why'd you stop?"

Brie blinked.

"Sorry," she stuttered, "I just... I didn't... It was beautiful."

Nori smiled, his eyes crinkling.

"So why'd you stop?" he asked again, winking at her.

Brie rolled her eyes. She was getting used to his cheeky habits, she didn't even blush now.

"I just wasn't expecting it, that's all," she said, brushing an imaginary bit of dirt from the skirt of her dress, "Shall we start fresh?"

"I think I'd like that very much," Bilbo piped up from across the courtyard, his pipe seemingly forgotten in his hand, his eyes fallen closed.

"Oh yes," Ori sighed dreamily, his own knees pulled to his chest and his eyes shining, "Me too."

"Well, then" Nori said, grinning widely and gesturing his hand to Brie, "At your pleasure, Miss Baggins."

Brie smiled and began the song again, this time accompanied by the sound of Nori's tenor harmony humming under her own voice, swelling and making the song resonate through the night in a way she had never heard before.

* * *

The next morning, Briallen was in the courtyard early looking for Kili, hoping to get an head start on that day's archery. But before she could even so much as glance about, her vision was filled with the large, scowling form of Dwalin.

"Wondered if I might have word," he grunted.

Briallen gaped up at him for a second or two before she managed to pull herself together enough to speak.

"I… Of course, Mister Dwalin."

She caught him giving her hair (already breaking loose of the tentative hold her braid had on it and floating around her face in tendrils) a furtive glance. She self-consciously tugged at the tail that hung over her shoulder.

"Might could do something with that too," he grumbled, "With your permission, of course."

Brie dropped her hand and clasped them behind her, toeing at the ground.

"If you like."

They sat together tentatively on the marble steps in the cool morning air and Dwalin had her hair down and combed through in less than a trice. He had just begun to separate the curls when he spoke again.

"I don't like it."

Brie was so startled by this sharp declaration that she tried to turn and look at him, which earned her an impatient grunt and a gentle nudge of her head back to face front.

"Don't like what, Mister Dwalin?"

"You spending your evenings with that... with _Nori_ ," he answered, clearly wishing to use some stronger bit of vocabulary, but refraining, "He's not trustworthy. He's a thief, and a liar, and no good will come of him."

Brie blinked at this emphatic statement and it took her a few moments to voice a reply.

"While I appreciate your concern, Mister Dwalin, I have to say, if Nori were all that untrustworthy, do you think Thorin would have allowed him to come on the quest in the first place?"

This was perhaps taking a bit of undue advantage, for anyone with eyes could see that Dwalin and Thorin were the best of friends. Dwalin would trust Thorin with his life, and Brie suspected that the reverse was also true. The point, however, was a valid one and earned Brie a reluctant grunt of acquiescence in answer.

"I feel I must also remind you that I am a grown hobbit, well into my majority, and quite capable of choosing whom I spend my time with," Brie added, "Nori has shown me nothing but kindness and friendship, and until he gives me a reason to mistrust him, I'm afraid I shall have to follow my own conscience on the subject."

Dwalin hummed to himself, as if trying to think of something else to say, some fresh argument to put forth. Finally, he just sighed.

"Very well, Miss Baggins," he said, "But just so you know, I'll be keeping an eye on the proceedings. Got to follow my conscience too, you know."

Brie gave a short nod.

"Agreed."

Just as Dwalin was tying off her hair with the bit of string she had kept for the purpose, Kili appeared, optimistic as ever and ready to be off. Brie followed the young prince to the archery range, feeling inexplicably lighter with Dwalin's twin braids swinging down her back.

* * *

 **A/N:** For those that have been asking, next chapter we really are going to dig into the archery thing and what's going on with all that, I swear! Hopefully, I will have that chapter up for you next week! :)


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** I'm back! I know, it's been forever (nearly a month!), but I promise, I'm not giving up on this story! I just have a lot of irons in the fire right now, so updates here might be a little slow. I'm aiming for at least a chapter a month at this point. I promise, this glacier-like pace won't last forever, I just need to finish up a few things and I'll be ready to tackle this thing head on! In the meantime, thank you for bearing with me, your comments are like gold and I treasure every one of them!

* * *

 **Chapter Nine**

Now that the fences appeared to have been mended between Dwalin and Brie, the dwarf began to take an interest, not only in the time she was now spending with Nori of an evening, but in her diligence to better herself in general. She never missed her morning archery with Kili (though in her heart she was beginning to believe it might be better for all involved if she just gave it up as a bad job), and this show of perseverance somehow translated an encouragement to Dwalin to find her the perfect short range weapon as well.

"Because eventually those pretty little arrows will run out," he insisted gruffly as he worked her hair into a sturdy knot at the nape of her neck, "Then what'll you do?"

Though she was sorely discouraged by her lack of improvement in a skill she was already experienced in, Dwalin's point did make a great deal of sense. So that afternoon, under Dwalin's watchful eye, Brie studiously and meticulously sampled from the range of different weapons the dwarves had available, everything from hammers and axes, to swords and maces. Several hours later, Brie began to truly realize the predicament she was in. The world was much bigger than she was, and so were the dwarves' weapons, many too heavy for her to even _carry_ , much less wield properly.

It was eventually Fili, of all people, who solved this particular dilemma. After watching Brie struggle quite valiantly with an axe nearly as tall as she was, the prince sauntered over, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes.

"As _amusing_ as this has all been," he wheezed, still trying to catch his breath from laughing, "Why don't you try these?"

He dug in his jacket for a moment, finally producing two short, wide-bladed daggers. For several seconds Brie just stared at them blankly.

"Go on then, take them," Fili said, wobbling them under her nose, "They won't bite. At least, not if you hold 'em by the right end."

He winked at her. Brie narrowed her eyes, but gingerly plucked the sharp objects from his fingers, weighing them experimentally. They were a little too wide to fit comfortably in her palm, but they weren't too heavy, or too long. She hefted one in her hand, trying to adjust her grip to fit around the handle.

"Well, it's certainly not ideal," Dwalin grumbled beside her, "But I suppose it might do."

"Better than nothing, I'd say," Fili said, "And that's all you've got otherwise."

"You don't mind?" Brie asked, suddenly aware that she was depriving Fili of one of his own forms of defense.

But the dwarf-prince only grinned mischievously, tugging another knife from his jacket and twirling it absently in his fingers.

"Nah, go on," he said, "I've mostly outgrown them anyway. Just try not to lose them, alright?"

He winked and sauntered off again, still twirling his knife, while Brie rolled her eyes at his back.

* * *

And so Brie's days began to fall into a routine, archery with Kili in the morning, weapons training with Dwalin in the afternoon, and evenings with Nori, singing songs and learning the finer points of thievery. They would spend hours together, humming bars of melody and harmony, and passing things between them in the dim light of the fire, Nori teaching her the best way to slip something up her sleeve or into a pocket without anyone noticing. He pressed on her the need to wear her waistcoat and jacket more often, even though it was summer.

"The more clothes you have, the more pockets you keep, the better chance you have of keeping things out of sight," he said.

He also encouraged her to practice, and often. She refused to steal from the elves ("We are their _guests_!" she hissed, to which Nori only rolled his eyes), but she would often try to catch the dwarves, and even her brother, off guard when she could, taking various objects off their persons (a pipe here, a pocket knife there), and returning them at later times, or leaving them in obvious places to be found. She never kept anything that she stole. It was only for practice after all.

And she never stole from Thorin. It seemed... in bad taste, to steal from one's employer. Or at least, that's what she told herself.

Though Bilbo had initially agreed to the lessons (and did in fact join her with Nori on a few occasions), more often than not Brie's brother would be caught up in the study of history books and old maps and paintings of long ago battles, and wouldn't be seen for hours at a time. Brie couldn't bring herself to mention it to him. Bilbo had always been the scholar, their father's pride and joy. She couldn't bear to part him from something that brought him so much happiness when she knew such things would not last for much longer.

So she kept to her lessons and Bilbo kept to his, and in the evenings she would sing him to sleep as they waited for the inevitable day when it would all come to an end.

* * *

"I just don't understand it," Kili muttered, "I mean, I was _there_! I _saw_ you! You were _magnificent_!"

Despite more than a week of practice and Kili's enthusiastic tutelage, both he and Brie were disappointed to discover that Brie's archery had not improved one bit.

"You have the skill!" Kili exclaimed, "I just don't understand..."

Brie sighed and rolled her shoulder, which was starting to ache. She had been pushing herself as much as she was able, trying desperately to recreate her performance on the plains. But the truth was she remembered very little of what had _actually_ happened. It was all a blur, mixed with fractured memories of a long ago winter. The only facts she knew without doubt were those she had been told. She knew she had shot wargs. She knew she had done it quite skillfully. But, for the life of her, she could not recall _how,_ which made the knowledge all but useless.

She sighed and sighted another arrow. She mentally ran through the checklist of everything Kili had taught her: stance, posture, grip. She released. The arrow sailed past what would have been the ear of the straw dummy and buried itself in the wood-planked back wall.

"You're over-thinking it."

Brie jumped and nearly dropped her bow. Thorin was leaning in the stone archway of the courtyard, his arms folded, his eyes boring into her.

"Uncle!" Kili said, sounding just as surprised as Brie.

"You're over-thinking it," Thorin repeated, ignoring his nephew and pushing himself off the stone, striding toward the back wall and Brie's missed arrow, "Where did you go when you faced the wargs on the plains?"

Brie balked.

"…what?" she asked, her voice shaking.

Thorin examined the embedded arrow for a moment, then with one quick motion jerked it from the wooden plank and made his way back to her.

"I saw your eyes, Miss Baggins," he said, passing her the arrow, "Your mind was no longer in the present. Where did you go?"

Brie hesitated, gripping the arrow in her fist, finding comfort in its smooth, cool surface. She met Thorin's eyes steadily for several seconds, conflicted. Somehow, speaking about what had happened to her, both on the plains and all those years ago, seemed like a very private matter, something only to be shared with those she trusted. She trusted Kili, in the same way she might trust a child. But Thorin...?

The dwarf king waited, arms crossed but with no impatience evident on his face. He was waiting for her to come to a decision, a decision that he seemed to sense was difficult for her. And there was something... something in his expression...

"Uncle..." Kili said, hesitantly, "Maybe it would be best..."

"The river," Brie said, her eyes never leaving Thorin's, "I... I was at the river. Frozen, it was winter. The wolves were coming across. We... We'd already lost so much..."

Something flickered in those sharp blue eyes, some fleeting hint of understanding that did not quite make it to the rest of his face. He nodded.

"Do you think you could go back there again?"

"I... don't know."

"I can help you. If you wish it."

Brie hesitated only a moment before nodding, decisively. No sense turning back now. Thorin approached her cautiously, as if he were afraid she might bolt like a frightened rabbit.

"Nock your arrow," he said, "But don't draw."

Brie did as she was told, facing the straw dummy that had been the bane of her existence for the past several days. Thorin stood just behind her shoulder. She could feel him. He seemed to radiate warmth and the image of a forge burning at his center entered her mind unbidden. She blinked it away.

"Close your eyes."

She did as he said and darkness enveloped her. She became keenly aware of a whole host of other sensations, the bow in her hand, the tension of the string, the touch of a breeze tugging at the braid down her back.

"What do you remember about the river?" Thorin's disembodied voice rumbled out of the darkness, "Say the first thing that comes to your mind."

"Cold," Brie answered without thought.

"Good. I want you to remember that cold, feel it on your skin, breathe it in."

Brie took a breath through her nose and felt the chill of the air in her lungs, felt it seep into the very core of her being, a penetrating cold that sank deep and then radiated out of her. Cold, from the inside out.

"What else do you remember?"

"White."

The darkness behind her eyelids exploded in a blinding flurry, blown about by the penetrating cold within her.

"Can you see it?" he asked.

"Yes," she whispered, barely more than a breath of air from her lips.

White swirling through the air, white on the ice of the river water, white fur growling, stalking, coming closer. And the cold inside her steadied her nerves, as hard and biting as the ice. She could smell the river, could feel the snow on her eyelashes, could hear the howling of the wind...

"Draw your bow."

The command was distant, but jarring. Thorin's voice cut through the memory of the river like claws through silk, leaving it fluttering at the edges of her thoughts. Just as he had done on the plains, bringing her back to herself, making her aware of her surroundings once more. She felt the heat of him against her back, could smell the grass under her feet, heard the sound of a bird twittering somewhere above them, and all of it clashed with the memory of the river, like another world.

She pulled back the string of her bow and tried to focus, on the placement of her feet, the posture of her back, the angle of her arm...

"Stop thinking about your form," Thorin murmured in her ear, as if he could read her thoughts, "You have a natural grace, more than any dwarf could dream of. Trust in it. Trust in the river, that cold, swirling white. See it. Feel it. Breathe it in."

His warm breath in her ear made her shiver and she took a deep breath through her nose, remembering the cold, seeing the white, hearing the howls...

She let out the breath and released the arrow. It hit the straw dummy with a satisfying thwack... in the place where the heart would be. She lowered her bow and smiled.

"We have a meeting with Lord Elrond this evening," Thorin said, turning on his heel before Brie could even catch her breath, "Your presence is requested."

And then he was gone, disappeared through the archway. Brie stared after him like a lost fauntling, confused and blinking in the sunlight that she could have sworn was much dimmer a moment ago. She looked at Kili, who was staring back at her with a similar expression of dumbfounded bewilderment. Were it not for that, she might have thought she had imagined the entire exchange.

"Well," Kili said, finally, "That's certainly not how he taught me."

* * *

The meeting with Lord Elrond went about as well as Brie might have expected. Meaning that it hadn't gone very well at all. Within the first five minutes, she had nearly broken one of her unspoken burglar's rules and nicked the map from Thorin's coat just so they could _get on_ with it! She completely agreed with Gandalf: Green Mother, _save them_ from the stubbornness of dwarves!

Of course, Gandalf had really not been that much better. _Academic?_ Brie had to suppress an urge to roll her eyes. Oh yes, _of course_ , because the son of the son of the last King Under The Mountain, with a stubborn streak stretching for miles and orcs on his tail, _clearly_ has only _academic_ interest in a map containing the secret location of what was essentially Erebor's back door. Well done, Gandalf. _Splendid_ subterfuge, that.

And then Lord Elrond (whom Brie had actually grown to like over the past week) had to go and make her angry. _Really_? What right had he to say what Thorin should or shouldn't do? Was it _his_ kingdom that had been stolen? _His_ people that had been killed, and starved, and made homeless? And what _exactly_ had he thought all this business was about anyway? He couldn't _possibly_ be that daft! It had taken all of her Baggins' manners (and a sharp pinch to the arm from her brother) to remain silent throughout the ordeal.

The good news was, she was not the only one to think the meeting had not gone all that well. The bad news was, after a short, private conversation with Gandalf, Thorin had come back to the camp and announced in a hushed whisper that they were leaving Imladris. Gandalf had reason to believe if they stayed any longer, they would be detained by those with the power to put a very thorough end to their quest. The company were to pack up their things and make for the mountains the next night, where Gandalf would meet them.

This announcement was promptly followed by a day of dwarven insanity that Brie and Bilbo both tried desperately to avoid (Bilbo had quickly turned her away from the sound of laughter and splashing in what had once been a lovely courtyard with a fountain. Brie tried not to think about it). Instead, Brie spent the day with her brother, letting him show her all the wonderful things he had discovered while she had been busy with her own self-imposed lessons. There were murals of epic battles, beautiful overlooks, broken swords (though why anyone would keep a broken sword lying about was hard for Brie to fathom), and so many books and maps that it all soon started to run together.

She actually lost Bilbo at one point, and found him again just as Lord Elrond was taking his leave. The elf-lord smiled and greeted her pleasantly, but something in her brother's expression made her uneasy. It was soon righted again when he caught her eye and she didn't ask him about it, but still she wondered what the elf had said to him to make him look so pensive.

That evening they all sat around the campfire, dwarves and hobbits, and had a merry dinner of sausages, songs, and laughter. Dwalin spent extra time and care on her hair, undoing his work and starting fresh at least twice. Brie saw Balin watching them over the firelight once, smiling fondly at his brother as if lost in a long ago memory. This was not the first time she'd caught such a look on the old dwarf's face and she longed to know what inspired it, but she doubted she would ever work up the courage to ask. Dwarves seemed awfully private about their personal affairs and it felt almost rude to inquire.

Dwalin was just finishing the first half of a complicated pattern of braids and beginning on the second, when Nori appeared seemingly out of nowhere and plopped down in front of Brie, puffing his pipe and examining her head with interest.

"You nearly done, guardsman?" he asked, quirking his head to the side, apparently to examine the work around and behind her left ear, "You've been at it for almost an hour, one might start to think you're trying to hoard the lady's company all to yourself."

Brie felt Dwalin's hands still for a long moment. Tension crackled uncomfortably in the air.

"Speak to me again, thief," Dwalin growled, as his fingers began to work again, "And I will cut out your tongue to use for a beard ornament."

"Speaking of ornaments," Nori said, cheerfully ignoring the threat, "It really is too bad you haven't got any beads or bobbles to put in all that hair, Miss Baggins. Bet you'd look mighty fine with some silver sparkle or..."

He paused and glanced up at Dwalin, a mischievous glint in his eye.

"...some lavender ribbon. Bring out your eyes, I think..."

Dwalin was on his feet and had dragged Nori up by the throat before Brie could even blink.

"You presumptuous, dishonorable, _inùdoy rukhskhaizhunaz_!" he shouted, "Y'have _no_ _right_...!"

"Dwalin, stop!" Brie shouted, leaping to her feet and tugging at the much larger dwarf's arm, "Stop it, please!"

The moment he felt her touch, Dwalin released Nori, who stumbled back, rubbing at his throat, his dark eyes now shooting angry sparks. The camp was frighteningly still. Dwalin's hands were shaking. Brie had never seen Dwalin's hands shake. Not once. He clenched them into fists and took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving Nori.

"Apologies, Miss Baggins," he finally muttered, "No lady should be subjected to such language."

"Well, as I didn't understand most of it, there's no harm done," Brie said, a bit giddily.

"I wouldn't quite say _that,_ " Nori spat. He was crouched low, one hand still touching his throat, the other hovering dangerously close to his jacket where Brie knew he kept his knives. She threw him a glare.

"I may not have understood _everything_ that just transpired here, Mister Nori," she snapped, "But I certainly wasn't born yesterday. I know a provoking remark when I hear one, and I'll thank you _not_ to use me as a catalyst for your fight-mongering in the future. Is that clear?"

Dwalin and Nori glared at each other for another long moment. Brie stepped between them and tugged sharply on one of the braids in Nori's beard, forcing him to look down at her.

"I said, _is that clear_?"

He hesitated, clenching his jaw, but finally he bunched his fists and straightened out of his defensive crouch.

"Perfectly, sweet," he said, "Won't happen again."

He tossed one last venomous glare over her shoulder at Dwalin before he turned away, sauntering back toward his brothers, both of them on their feet, looking as if they weren't quite sure whether they should be leaping to Nori's defense or cracking him upside the head. Brie sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose.

"Dwalin," she said, suddenly feeling very tired, "Please tell me you didn't nearly kill someone over the mere suggestion of hair ribbons."

She turned back to the large dwarf, who had crossed his arms over his chest (a very familiar stance for him) and was staring down at her with a neutral expression.

"Wouldn't have killed him," he said, "Broken nose, maybe..."

"Over hair ribbons?" Brie asked skeptically, "Really?"

"Lavender," he said, as if that explained everything.

"I _like_ lavender!" Brie exclaimed, frustrated, "What exactly is wrong with lavender?!"

This seemed to throw Dwalin quite off his balance and he studied her face for a moment, as if to determine if she were in earnest.

"Lavender is the color of the house of Ri," he said finally, as if choosing each word very carefully, "To braid it into your hair... it's..."

"Oh, by the great Green Mother... Is this another courtship debacle?" she snapped, crossing her own arms as an outward sign of her growing irritation, "I thought we took care of all that weeks ago! He's not interested, Dwalin, there is no need..."

"It's not just courtship," Dwalin cut in, a scowl creasing his brow, "It's _family_."

The way he said it brought Brie up short. No… this _wasn't_ like the courtship debacle, not at all. This felt different, like it carried far more weight than Nori's flippant suggestion had let on.

"To plait the colors of a house into your hair is to weave yourself into that house. It is not something to be taken lightly or mentioned in jest. That he would even _suggest_ such a thing... that you might take up with the house of a _thief..."_

Brie sighed, but it was less with frustration and more in fond exasperation.

"Mister Dwalin, while I appreciate your concern for my reputation, I fear I must remind you that I, myself, have signed on to this expedition as a burglar. The two aren't so very different, you know."

Dwalin jerked backward and blinked with wide eyes, his mouth opening once and then closing again without making a sound. He looked so genuinely astonished that Brie could not help by smile a little bit.

"I..." he stuttered, "It's… not the same thing."

Brie rolled her eyes and shook her head fondly, feeling her curls tumbling down around her shoulders, her half-done braids nearly completely unwound.

"If you insist, Mister Dwalin, but I'm afraid I don't quite agree," she said, reaching up to run her fingers through the undone braids before they tangled, "Shall we see to the rest of this?"

"Aye," Dwalin sighed, his shoulders sagging as he reached out and ran his own fingers through one of the loose braids, "We'll have to start again."

"Oh, I don't mind," Brie said, turning her back and dropping back onto the floor at his feet, wrapping her arms about her knees, "It's rather nice actually, like when I was a faunt and my mother..."

She winced, not only at the mention of her mother (which was always painful), but because she was sure big, strong, _masculine_ Dwalin had absolutely no desire to be compared to a hobbit housewife.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly, "Sorry, I just..."

"I am honored," Dwalin said, a reverent tone to his voice as his fingers began to work through the tangles of curls, "Your mother must have been a great lady, to have raised such fine children. It is a privilege to occupy a place in your mind that holds her memory."

Brie was struck speechless. For a moment all she could do was curl herself in more tightly, press her chin to her knees, and try not to cry. No one... no one had _ever_ spoken of her mother like that. Like something precious, her memory something to be treasured. In the Shire, her mother was odd, even for a Took, married to a Baggins but never really tamed, and she was spoken of just as often in sniffs than sympathy. In her house... well, in her house Belladonna was rarely mentioned, her portrait above the fireplace the only reminder that she had ever been in their lives at all. It hurt too much. Even after all these years, it still _hurt_ too much.

Brie swallowed and forced cheerfulness into her voice as she pointedly changed the subject.

"So, what are your house colors, Mister Dwalin?"

Dwalin's fingers moved in steady rhythm as he replied.

"I am of the line of Durin. Were I to have the privilege of calling you my kin, I would weave your golden curls with fine blue silk."

"Durin?" Brie asked, sitting up in sudden surprise, "Like Thorin?"

Dwalin grunted in agreement, "We are cousins, he and I."

Ah. Not just best friends, but family as well. That explained a bit, why they were so close.

Brie cast her eyes around the camp (being careful not to actually move her head) and for the first time realized that there was no sign of the dwarf king. Or her brother either, now that she thought of it. She frowned. When had Bilbo slipped away? Hadn't he been talking to Bofur only a moment ago? How had she not noticed he was gone? She felt a stab of guilt. She knew he was safe (what could possibly happen to him while they were in Rivendell?), but she was supposed to be looking out for him and she hadn't even noticed he was missing.

It was another minute before she finally spotted him coming down the stairs, and relaxed a bit. At least he hadn't gone far. But when he stepped into the light of the fire, she could see that he looked troubled, concern furrowing his brow. He met her eyes and she raised an eyebrow, but he shook his head, scurrying off to dig in the packs they had brought down with them. They were the only two with packs ready to go, since they'd had to pack in their room and bring their things down with them. Brie suppressed a longing sigh. She would miss that lovely bed.

Dwalin finally finished with her hair and Brie made her way over to where her brother was sitting, puffing on his pipe and looking much calmer than he had before. Brie settled next to him as he blew a lazy smoke ring into the night air.

"Are you alright?" she asked in a hushed whisper, "You looked... worried earlier."

Bilbo blew another smoke ring and then smiled at her.

"I'm fine, Brie," he said, "It was nothing, just nerves is all."

He reached out and tugged on the braid hanging over her shoulder.

"Heard a bit of shouting earlier," he said, "Were they fighting for your hand again?"

Brie rolled her eyes and shoved at his shoulder playfully. He was never going to let her live that courting thing down.

"It was just a misunderstanding," she said, glancing at Nori, who was trying his best to bother Ori as much as possible, the poor little scribe hunched over his sketchbook and batting Nori away at intervals, "Well, not so much a misunderstanding... But I think I took care of it. Or at least I understand it a little better now."

It was Bilbo's turn to roll his eyes.

"If you ever come to a complete understanding of dwarves, sister dearest, please do let me know. I myself am completely mystified."

Brie smiled and lay her head on her brother's shoulder, enjoying the comfort of his presence, and listening to the cheerful murmur of the dwarves that was becoming more and more a familiar part of her life.

* * *

She was just beginning to doze when Thorin appeared, rushing down the steps and nodding to the dwarves who had gone silent at his entrance.

"It's time."

Instantly, the lethargic group (most of whom Brie had believed to be sleeping) became a model of efficiency, coming to their feet, packing all of their belongings, and before the sun had peeked over the horizon they were at the foot of the mountains, climbing into the wilds beyond. Brie glanced back and caught sight of her brother, much further down the path than she'd thought, his eyes turned back toward Rivendell spread out below. It was beautiful up here, the air crisp and clear, and the valley seemed ethereal and far away, like a dream or perhaps another world entirely.

"Master Baggins."

Both hobbits jumped and looked up toward the cold voice and hard gaze of Thorin Oakenshield.

"I suggest you collect your sister and keep up."

The dwarf turned away before Brie could sort out a suitably scathing reply. So... they were back to _that_ , were they? Very well then. Her eyes met Bilbo's as he caught up with her, and together they climbed over the edge of the world.

* * *

 **Khuzdul Translations:**

 _inùdoy rukhskhaizhunaz_ \- son of an orc-bitch

( **An Extra Note concerning translations:** I was using the Dwarrow Scholar for my Khuzdul translations and word creation when I started this story, however, it has come to my attention that the dictionary I was using has been updated and some of the words I thought were correct are now completely different. As it is going to take me the better part of forever to dig through the new vocabulary and figure out what changes need to be made, I have elected to stick with my old translations for now. In the future, I will switch everything over, but for now, please bear with me. Thanks!)


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

Briallen was entirely sick of rain. If she never stepped out into the rain again for the rest of her life, it would be too soon.

It started as a little shower just as they were coming to the true mountain paths, steep and rocky and far too narrow for Brie's comfort. Despite the cloak she had managed to "borrow" from Rivendell (she had every intention of returning it, she didn't care what Nori said), the rain managed to seep down to the skin and make everything thoroughly miserable.

Then the wind picked up, a biting cold that flung the rain into their faces and tugged at their clothes, making an already unsteady trek nearly perilous. Brie found herself clutching to Dwalin's cloak in an effort not to lose her footing on the slick stone. She could feel Bilbo clutching to her cloak in turn, but she did not dare turn to look at him. She had never been terribly bothered by heights, but even a glimpse over the edge of the steep cliffs made her head spin dangerously.

The rain pressed harder, the wind turned to a gale, and before too long lightning split the sky and thunder cracked the air, seeming to make even the mountains shudder in fear.

"We must find shelter!" Thorin shouted over the howling of the wind.

Brie took another step and suddenly the rock beneath her feet crumbled. Her voice stuck in her throat, not even allowing a scream as she slipped, her grip on Dwalin's cloak fumbled, there was nothing but open air beneath her, she was falling...

"Briallen!"

Dwalin snatched the back of her cloak and hoisted her up, swinging her until she was settled on solid stone directly in front of him. She was trembling, still not able to make any noise. Dwalin pushed back her hood, despite the pouring rain, and pressed his hands to either side of her face, forcing her to meet his eyes.

" _Mahal bazg khi,_ are you alright, lass!?"

Before Brie could respond, something huge came hurtling through the air, lit only briefly by flashes of lightning.

"Watch out!" Dwalin shouted, shoving Brie back against the stone wall and pressing his body over her as the mountain rocked beneath them, stone shattering on stone and showering down on them in shards. She clung to the dwarf without shame, fearing the storm more than she valued her pride.

"This is no thunderstorm!" Balin called, "It's a thunder battle! Look!"

Brie could barely see around Dwalin, but in the flashes of light through the torrential rain, she could make out something that looked like a man (a craggy, misshapen, _huge_ man) pulling himself off the side of the mountains.

"Well bless me..." Bofur gasped, barely audible over the thunder and howl of the wind, "The legends are true. Giants! Stone Giants!"

She clung to Dwalin as stones fell all around them, shattering the ledges where they stood as the giants tossed boulders at each other like they were no more than pine cones. Suddenly there was a hard, loud crack somewhere close by and the mountain lurched.

"What's happening?!" That was Kili's voice behind them and Brie felt a sudden stab of panic.

"Bilbo?!" she shouted, straining to try to see around Dwalin. Her brother... He'd been right behind them...

The mountain lurched again and the ledge on which they stood ripped violently apart.

"Kili, grab my hand!" Fili shouted, reaching for his brother as the mountainside split in two, with half the company… including Bilbo _…_ trapped on the wrong side.

" _Bilbo!_ "

Brie lunged toward him, knowing that it was no good, too late, he was gone, swept away, or _she_ was swept away, and she wasn't quite sure which because _everything_ was moving, rolling and pitching, and it was all she could do to keep her balance as the mountain rocked upright and began to _walk!_

Dwalin dragged her back from the edge, but all Brie could think about was _Bilbo_ , Bilbo was the _other_ way, she needed her brother and he was…

The stone beneath her feet stopped rolling as Dwalin flung her back onto solid mountain once more, but the others were still out there, being tossed about in the wind and rain as the giants fought. There were three of them now and Brie watched, paralyzed with horror, as one of the creatures threw a boulder at the head of another and it went down in a shower of stone, sending the ledge that held her brother and her friends hurtling toward the mountainside and smashing against the rock.

Dwalin's grip on her went slack.

"Balin..."

Brie could hear Thorin roaring over the wind and the thunder, shouting Kili's name, sweet Kili... but then everything was drowned in a dull buzz and a voice in her head, whispering...

… _Bilbo._

Brie wasn't sure if the sound she made was even human, but it carried over the buzzing in her ears as she scrambled forward, heedless of the others shouting and surging around her because _Bilbo, Bilbo, no please, not Bilbo, please..._ She slipped between the larger dwarves as if they weren't even there and slid around the corner, nearly toppling over the edge of the cliff face before she regained her footing.

There was a heap of dwarves, all piled together against a crevice in the rock, but they were moving... they were _alive._ Brie's knees went weak for a moment and she reached blindly for the rock wall to steady herself as she watched Kili and Ori and Balin wriggle free, surrounded by their relieved families. Her eyes searched... and then her breath caught.

"Where's Bilbo?" she rasped, but no one seemed to hear. Her eyes skipped frantically over the dwarves, all thirteen of them, and there was no sign of golden curls...

 _Oh... Oh please..._

"Where is my brother?!" she screamed.

Everybody stopped moving. Brie felt all the air leave her lungs as a frantic search commenced, dwarves swarming the rock ledge, and Brie thought she was going to drop, she couldn't, she didn't have the strength...

"There!" Ori shouted.

Dwalin and Bofur both dove to the ground, where Brie could just barely see the tips of tiny fingers clinging desperately to the edge of the path. Brie lunged, but was snatched about the waist and yanked back, almost pulled from her feet.

"No, sweet, you'll fall!" Nori yelled over the wind, but Brie didn't care, struggling against the hold of the much stronger dwarf.

"No, please, my brother, please, _that's my brother!_ "

Bofur stretched out his hand, his hat quivering precariously atop his head, and Brie watched helplessly as Bilbo reached… and slipped.

Brie shrieked, throwing herself against Nori's iron grip hard enough to knock the wind out of her… and Thorin dropped over the side of the cliff, grabbed Bilbo by the collar, and tossed him into the waiting hands of the others, who quickly pulled him to safety. Brie sagged against Nori's arms, relief and terror making her legs useless. She held out her arms as Bilbo stumbled toward her, wrapping him up and burying her face in his hair as Nori let her go, the two hobbits sinking to the ground in a shivering heap.

 _Bilbo... Bilbo..._

…but then, something else, another name, shot through Brie like a bolt of the lightning cracking against the sky…

… _Thorin._

Brie jerked upright in alarm. Dwalin was still hanging over the side of the cliff, reaching, straining. Brie stiffened, clutching Bilbo in her arms, eyes wide and heart hammering somewhere in her throat. Finally, Dwalin gave a mighty heave, and Thorin's head and shoulders appeared as he pulled himself back up onto the rock shelf. Brie let out a shuddering breath and buried her face in Bilbo's dripping hair once more, rocking back and forth.

 _Bilbo is safe..._

 _Thorin is safe..._

 _We're all safe..._

"Thought we'd lost our burglar," Dwalin said, breathless but good-natured.

"They are both lost."

Brie looked up and met Thorin's glare. But somehow, though some part of her said that she should be, she couldn't find it in her to be angry at him. She was too grateful to be angry, and… and _relieved,_ because they had nearly lost Thorin as well, and that had been far more frightening than Brie would have expected it to be, considering.

"They have been lost ever since they left home," he said, turning away, "They should never have come. They have no place amongst us."

Brie _wanted_ to feel angry then. She really did. But all she felt was cold and a resigned sort of hurt. She looked down at her brother and could see that same hurt mirrored in his eyes too. She had done this to him. She had brought them here, to this place. If it weren't for her, he would be safe and warm and dry in his hobbit hole, where he belonged.

 _Green Mother... what have I done?_

* * *

 _"You are more than welcome to stay here, if that is what you wish..."_

Bilbo could hear Lord Elrond's words, as clearly as if the elf-lord were there in the cave with him. Rivendell... Oh, to stay in Rivendell! How the idea had lightened his heart, quickened his blood…

 _"Oh no, we couldn't do that. Brie would never turn back, not now."_

 _"Perhaps. But I am not speaking to Briallen, I am speaking to you. What do you want, Bilbo Baggins?"_

The idea had been ludicrous, and he had said as much. He wouldn't leave Brie. Together, or not at all.

But now, lying in the dark on the cold stone of the cave floor, listening to the thunder that was not all thunder, dripping wet and miserable, all he could hear were Thorin's words.

 _"They should never have come..."_

What the dwarf had really meant, of course, was that _he_ should never have come. Bilbo was not made for this. He was a Baggins. He was made for the rolling green of the Shire, for books and maps and growing things. The wild was no place for the likes of him. Brie... Brie was alright. She was a Took (in all but name), and not just her mother's blood, but the blood of the old Tooks ran in her veins, Tooks with names like 'Bullroarer' and 'Goblinsbane'. If there were any hobbit born for adventure, it was Briallen Baggins. She thrived on such things, Bilbo saw it more and more each day. And Bilbo... Bilbo did nothing but slow her down. He had always slowed her down, brought her up short, made her somehow _less_ than what she was meant to be.

No longer. For once, he was going to do the right thing, the right thing by Brie. Even if it hurt him more than words could say, even if it left a gaping hole in his chest that would never be filled again. He was going to let her go.

So Bilbo lay quietly on the cold stone floor, and waited for his chance.

* * *

"No, you _don't_ , you _don't_ understand!"

Brie jerked awake at the sound of her brother's voice and reached for him. He wasn't there.

"None of you do, not even..."

His frustrated hiss trailed off and Brie lifted her head. He was standing in the entrance to the cave, speaking to Bofur. With his cloak... and his pack... and his walking stick...

Brie felt a sick knot form in the pit of her stomach.

"So you'll leave her then?" Bofur murmured.

"You'll take care of her, won't you?" Bilbo whispered, his voice desperate, "Only... She's not like me. She's not a Baggins, she was made for this sort of thing. For adventure and danger and wandering. It's in her blood, always has been. I can't take that from her, just because I'm not cut out for it. I've been holding her back all her life, Bofur. I can't do it any longer."

Brie slowly rolled to a crouch against the wall of the cave, picking up her bow and arrows, and sliding her own pack onto her back. She had expected this, of course. She had expected that they might leave tonight, after what Thorin had said. She'd just never expected… never thought...

"Promise me, Bofur," Bilbo whispered, gripping the dwarf's arm, "Promise me you'll look after her."

Bofur paused. Then he nodded in the faint light, and gripped Bilbo's arm in return.

"I wish you all the luck in the world, Bilbo Baggins," the dwarf said, with what sounded surprisingly like genuine regret, "I really do."

Brie felt cold and empty, even as she stood to her feet, preparing to follow her brother. He was leaving... He was leaving _her..._

 _Together, or not at all... Together, or not at..._

"What's that?"

Brie paused, frozen against the wall. There was a faint blue glow, just under Bilbo's jacket. He reached down and slowly slid his sword an inch from its scabbard, throwing blue light against the walls of the cave. Bilbo had told her what that blue light meant...

"Get up," Brie said, but her voice was hoarse and barely audible. She swallowed and tried again, gripping her bow in shaking fingers, "Get up! Everybody, get up!"

"Wake up!" Thorin roared, throwing off his blanket and leaping to his feet.

The rest of the dwarves were moving now, roused by the shouting, but still slow and clumsy with sleep. Brie took a step toward Bilbo, felt someone grab her arm… and then the floor fell away beneath them, and they dropped.

* * *

Brie landed on a pile of dwarves and quickly rolled out of the way to keep from being crushed by those following her. She hit the rough edge of whatever structure held them and fought to find her feet, searching the mass of dwarves struggling to stand in their bowl-shaped cage.

"Bilbo!"

She caught a glimpse of curly hair in the confusion, but her call was lost in the chattering cackles and screeches of the nasty looking things that flooded the cage and yanked at the prisoners, herding them out and down a narrow swinging pathway. Brie was shoved and tripped and pulled and spun about until she wasn't sure which way she had come from and which way she was going. She'd lost sight of her brother and she couldn't find him again. Panic started to build in her throat and the stench of the nasty creatures filled her mouth and her nose. She stumbled and someone caught her arm before she fell.

"It's alright, sweet, I got you," Nori said, pulling her up and tucking her into his side, as far away from the goblins as possible. And they _were_ goblins, even though Brie had never actually seen one before, she knew the stories.

"Nori!" she gasped, her chest constricting painfully as she tried to breathe through her panic, "Nori, my brother...!"

"It's alright, love, he's alright," the dwarf muttered, leaning down so he could speak in her ear, "I saw him slip out, he'll be right behind us. Don't say anything or you'll give him away."

Brie felt a tiny bit better then. Bilbo was alright. He was right behind them. He would think of a way out of this mess. She knew he would. He was a Baggins.

 _I'm not cut out for it… I can't do it any longer… Together, or not at all…_

 _Oh Bilbo… Please don't leave me…_

* * *

 **Khuzdul Translations:**

 _Mahal bazg khi!-_ Mahal curse it! (pretty much the closest equivalent I could come up with to 'goddamnit' ;P)

 **A/N:** If you feel like this chapter is missing something, it is! I've reorganized this and the next chapter to make things make a little more sense and not feel so choppy and weird to me. See the Author's Note at the beginning of Chapter Eleven for more info :)


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N:** So, here's the deal: I didn't like the way the chapters were splitting themselves in the original version of these two chapters (10 and 11), so I went back and fixed it. It's better now. Not great, but better. So if you're coming to this and thinking "Hey, I've read this before!" it's probably because you have. I changed the split and cut out a bit of the more boring bits of the Goblin-king, and basically got right into the juicy parts. The very end of Chapter Ten changed a tiny bit, but not much, it basically ends just before they reach the Goblin-king's cavern. The first half of this chapter is what was the last half of Chapter Ten, but we get all the way out of the goblin caves by the end :) Thanks for your patience, hopefully I won't have to do this again :)

* * *

 **Chapter Eleven**

Brie decided quite early on that she did not care for the Goblin-king one bit. He was a fat slob of a creature, swinging his grotesque scepter of skulls with no consideration for prisoners or subjects, and frankly, his musical tastes were of such an appalling nature Brie was surprised her ears weren't bleeding. _She_ could have written a better song than that monstrosity and that was saying something.

"Who would be so bold as to come armed into my kingdom? Spies? Thieves?! _Assassins?!_ "

"Dwarves, Your Malevolence."

"Dwarves?"

"We found them on the front porch."

"Well, don't just stand there! Search them! Every crack, every crevice!"

And with that, the hoard of goblins fell on them in a flurry, snatching every conceivable item within reach. Brie had already lost her bow and Fili's knives, and then one of the smaller goblins latched itself to her back, tugging at the strap to her quiver.

"Here now, get off!" Brie shrieked indignantly.

"Back off her, you smelly little...!"

Nori managed to wrench the horrid thing off her, but it ripped her quiver off her back as it went, scattering silver arrows across the platform and into the dark chasm below. During this distraction, Nori's bag was wrestled from his hands and hit the ground with a shower of clangs. Various metal objects (cutlery, goblets, candlesticks), all of elven make, tumbled across the wooden planking and one of the goblins snatched up a golden candelabrum.

"It is my belief, Oh Great Protuberance, that they are in league with elves!" he cried, handing it over to the Great Goblin for inspection.

The Goblin-king turned it over and eyed the bottom of the piece.

"Made in Rivendell?" he said, "Bah! Second Age, couldn't give it away!"

He tossed the golden object aside with a resounding clang. Everyone turned and stared at Nori, who was trying to look innocent and failing miserably.

"What?" he said, "Just a couple of keepsakes."

Brie slapped the dwarf's elbow.

"Ow!"

"Really, Nori?" she snapped, " _Really_? Have you no manners at all?"

"I'm not sure now's the best time for a lecture on proper etiquette, sweet," Nori replied, rubbing his elbow.

"If not now, when?"

"Perhaps when our lives are not in jeopardy?"

"Our lives are _always_ in jeopardy!"

"Silence!" The Goblin-king roared and Brie shut her mouth, but she was still glaring at Nori, who at least had the decency to look sheepish.

"What are you doing in these parts? Speak!"

Thorin took a step, but Oin quickly cut in front of him.

"Don't worry, lads," the old dwarf said, "I'll handle this."

"No tricks!" said the Goblin-king, settling back onto his throne of broken boards and cast-off metal pieces, "I want the truth! Warts and all!"

"You're going to have to speak up!" Oin shouted, waving around a flattened piece of metal, "Your boys flattened my trumpet!"

"I'll flatten more than your trumpet!" the Goblin-king shouted, throwing himself from his throne toward the dwarves. Brie squeaked and Nori clamped a hand on her arm, pulling her closer.

"If it's more information you're wanting, I'm the one you should speak to!" Bofur cried out, waving a hand and jumping out in front.

The Goblin-king paused and stepped back, eying Bofur suspiciously.

"You see, we were on the road," Bofur said, "…well, it's not so much a road as a path. Actually, it's not even that, come to think of it. It's more like a track."

The Goblin-king growled in what Brie supposed was meant to be a menacing manner. Brie didn't think any creature so incredibly fat and ugly could be all that menacing.

"Anyway," Bofur continued, oblivious, "The point is we were on this road, like a path, like a track, and then we weren't! Which is a problem…"

He glanced around at the other dwarves, clearly losing momentum and hoping for some help.

"…because we were supposed to be in Dunland last Tuesday."

"Visiting distant relations!" Gloin piped up.

The other dwarves all started shouting and jostling to be heard.

"Shut… UP!" The Goblin-king roared, slamming his scepter to the ground with an ominous crash.

The dwarves stopped.

"If they will not talk, we'll make them squawk!"

The goblins cheered, pressing in, tugging and shoving them in delight.

"Bring out the Mangler! Bring out the Bone Breaker!" the Goblin-king cried, swinging his scepter, and pointing straight at Brie, "Start with the little one!"

She should have been terrified. She knew that. All of those things sounded really terrible and not pleasant at all. But at this point, after almost being eaten by trolls and dancing for elf-lords and nearly being smashed to bits by stone giants, somehow, the king of the goblins just seemed... silly.

Brie's hands found her hips and her voice carried very well against the stones of the cavern.

"I _beg_ your pardon!"

"Over my dead...!" Nori growled.

"You'll not touch a _hair..._!" Dwalin shouted.

" _Wait!_ "

The dwarves and the goblins fell silent as Thorin stepped out of the group and stood alone before the Goblin-king. Even disarmed and disheveled, he looked every inch a king and Brie wondered how on earth the goblins could ever have mistaken him for a common dwarf.

"Well, well, well," the Goblin-king said, looking thoroughly pleased with himself, "Look who it is! Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror; King under the Mountain!"

The goblin flourished his hand and bowed dramatically, his wobbling chin nearly touching the floor. Then he looked up and smirked.

"Oh, but I'm forgetting," he said, "You don't have a mountain. And you're not a king. Which makes you... nobody, really."

Something fiery, made of Baggins indignation and Took foolishness, swept through Brie then, staring up at this ghastly creature who deigned to make a mockery of...

Who _dared_ to say...

 _Not a...?_

"Not a king?!" Brie cried, "Are you _blind?!_ "

She wriggled free of Nori's grasp and shoved her way through the dwarves until she stood quite firmly between Thorin and the Great Goblin.

"Now see here, you!" she shouted, one hand planted on her hip, the other pointing an accusing finger into that ugly face, "I've had just about enough! How dare you sit there among your stolen relics and makeshift throne, and say this dwarf is ' _not a king'_? Thorin Oakenshield is more king than you on his worst day! If he's not a king then... then you're an elf and I'm an oliphaunt!"

"Briallen."

Thorin's voice was low, but it carried a dangerous edge, and Brie stopped talking, but she continued to glare up into the nasty face of the Goblin-king, who seemed more amused than anything else.

"Don't you have a leash for this pet of yours, Oakenshield?" he asked, "I feel my ankles might be in danger."

The goblins roared with laughter and Brie clenched her fists, her whole body trembling with rage.

"Oh you wretched, nasty, _evil...!"_

She was grabbed by the collar and yanked back before she could take two steps. Thorin shoved her toward the other dwarves as she struggled against him, swinging her fists in a fit of Tookish fury.

"Shall I find her a muzzle?" the Goblin-king roared, "Or perhaps we'll just pull her teeth and be done!"

Thorin whirled on the Great Goblin, snarling.

"You'll not lay a _finger_ on her!"

The Goblin-king fell back in a feint of surprise.

"Oh-ho-ho!" he laughed, "So we've found a soft spot after all! And here I thought dwarves were made of stone!"

Thorin did not answer. The Goblin-king smirked and his eyes glittered dangerously as he leaned forward.

"I wonder what your pale friend would say to that. Do you think he'd be jealous?"

Pale friend? Why did that sound...?

"He's offered quite a pretty price for your head. Just the head, you understand," the Goblin-king chuckled, "Nothing attached."

Still Thorin said nothing. Brie could not get that phrasing out of her mind. Pale friend... _Pale friend..._

"Perhaps you know of whom I speak. A Pale Orc, astride a white warg..."

Thorin's shoulders stiffened and Brie remembered. A pale orc... Thorin... His father... His _brother_...

"Azog the Defiler was destroyed," Thorin growled, "He was slain in battle long ago!"

The Great Goblin smirked.

"So you think his defiling days are done, do you?"

Brie felt her blood go cold.

 _Oh... Oh Thorin..._

But even as the Goblin-king sent a messenger to this pale orc, this ghost from his past long dead, Thorin did not falter. He stood tall and proud before the Great Goblin, even as machines of horror were called up from the depths of the caves and the Great Goblin started up his song again, of shattered bones and wringing necks and terrible things to come.

Nori had grabbed her and pulled her back into the midst of the dwarves again, but Brie kept one eye on Thorin for strength, and one eye on the darkened pathway behind them for hope. Where was Bilbo? Hadn't Nori said he would be right behind? Had he gotten caught? Or lost? Or worse?

There was a shriek and a clatter, and suddenly all of the goblins, including the king, were scrambling away, terrified.

"I know that sword!" the Goblin-king cried, pointing a shaking finger, "It is the Goblin-Cleaver!"

Brie looked where he pointed. They had found Thorin's sword, Orcrist.

"The Biter! The blade that sliced a thousand necks!" the Goblin-king shouted, "Slash them! Beat them! Kill them! Kill them all!"

The goblins howled in terror and fell on the dwarves with whips and fists and bits of wood.

"Briallen!" Nori shouted, throwing her to the floor and out of the way of one goblin's whip, taking the brunt of the hit himself.

"Nori!" she screamed, but it was lost in squeals of delight and horror as the goblins dragged the dwarves out and beat them with relish.

Brie crawled through the legs of dwarves and goblins until she was free of the stomping, crushing press. A group of the goblins grabbed Thorin and threw him to the ground.

"No!" Brie cried, scrambling to her feet and throwing herself into the throng, "No, stop it, _leave him alone!_ "

"Cut off his head!" the Goblin-king screamed, and one goblin raised a nasty blade of chipped bone.

" _NO!_ "

Brie flung herself forward, between the blade and the dwarf, just as a blinding light flashed all around them. The goblins shrieked and Brie felt arms, great strong arms, fold over her as Thorin rolled to the side and wrapped his body around her, shielding her from the great silent impact that followed. It was like hearing an explosion of fireworks if your ears were stuffed with cotton. And then it was dark. Not completely dark, but dim and silent except for the sound of falling rock and creaking wood.

Brie shook her head to clear the remnants of the strange cottony feeling from her ears and looked up. Thorin still held her and he was staring at her, his eyes wide and unreadable. And so very, very blue. Brie's heart was in her throat.

Oh...

Oh _dear..._

How terribly inconvenient.

"Hello," Brie breathed, as if she were meeting the dwarf for the first time, all over again.

A pause. Thorin opened his mouth as if he might answer...

"Take up arms!" The unexpected voice of Gandalf punctured the still air, "Fight! _Fight!_ "

And then they were both on their feet, Thorin grabbing for the closest weapon available, a wickedly curved blade, and cutting down goblins as they began to rise around them.

"Go!" he shouted.

Brie was already running, leaping nimbly through goblins still shaken from the wizard's blast, easily slipping out of the few hands that reached out to grab her. She slowed only long enough to snatch Orcrist from the floor and turn.

"Thorin!"

He was not far behind and caught the sword as she tossed it, unsheathing the blade and cutting down a circle of goblins in one smooth motion. The other dwarves had already reached the pile of weapons and were arming themselves. Brie slipped in between them and found her bow and quiver. There were only three of the silver arrows left. A string of curses leapt unbidden to her mind, but she threw the quiver and bow across her back anyway. She would just have to make every shot count.

"Briallen!"

She looked up at the sound of Fili's voice. He was across the walkway, but he tossed something to her that she caught easily enough. It was one of his knives.

"Behind you!"

Without a second thought, Brie whirled, bringing up the knife and slashing outward as Dwalin had taught her. The blade caught the belly of a goblin and ripped it open, black ooze pouring over Brie's arm. He went down with a scream. Brie wiped her hand on her trousers to get a better grasp on the blade, turning to meet the next attack. Instead she found Fili, grinning and pressing the second of his knives into her hand.

"Told you to hold on to them for me," he said, winking as he spun and beheaded a goblin that had snuck up behind them, "Don't lose them!"

They were surrounded and Brie felt lost and small. With both hands holding knives, she ducked in and out of the fight, mostly trying not to be stepped on and to stay out of everybody's way, only occasionally raising her weapons to strike. She was clumsy and unsteady, and she wanted nothing more than to run, but to run now was to be lost, and getting lost in these caverns was to be as good as dead.

 _Bilbo..._

The thought of her brother popped into her mind and was gone just as quickly as a goblin fell on her with a shriek and she sliced Fili's knife through his throat, covering her shirt in a spray of black sticky blood. She brushed a strand of hair from her face and caught a glimpse of Nori, just as he was knocked onto his back, his knife thrown from his hand. Brie started toward him, running as fast as she could, but the Great Goblin saw him too and charged, wildly swinging a huge mace. Too far, too late...

 _"Nori!"_ she screamed.

Thorin leapt into the air and met his sword to the Goblin-king's mace with a resonating clang. The Great Goblin stumbled back and scrambled for balance, but there was nothing to stop his fall. He crashed on the edge of the platform and tumbled over into the abyss below. Brie reached Nori and hauled him to his feet, her head pounding with relief.

"Thought I lost you," she gasped, grinning.

"Never, sweet," he declared, tugging playfully at her bedraggled braid.

 _"Mahal_ , could the pair of ya' stop flirting for _two minutes!_ " Dwalin shouted as he bashed a goblin's head in with a hammer.

"Jealous, guardsman?" Nori quipped, twirling a new set of knives and grinning in almost wolfish delight as he spun and slashed through a goblin that had been rushing them from behind.

"In your dreams, thief!"

"Follow me!" Gandalf called out, "Quick, run!"

Nori grabbed her arm and they were running, running through a black labyrinth of bridges and goblin screams. The dwarves were magnificent, swinging axes and swords and maces, cutting through goblins as if they were no more than tall grasses. Even Gandalf proved to be as deadly with his sword as he was with his magic, which was odd because Brie had never really considered the wizard _dangerous_ before. Brie, in contrast, only ran, ran as fast as she could and tried to stay out of the way, Fili's knives in her hands but practically useless to her.

It wasn't immediately apparent that she was being sheltered from the worst of things until the group was separated, one half running along a higher path, the other running below.

"Briallen!" Nori called from the path above.

"Got her!" Dwalin shouted back from Brie's side, smashing a goblin in the chest with an axe and shoving it over the path's edge.

"On your head be it, guardsman!"

"Don't you threaten me, thief!" Dwalin snarled and whirled, catching the neck of another goblin and nearly taking the head clean off before it fell.

"Would... you two... _please..._ " Brie gasped, but she didn't get to finish.

The paths converged, something snapped, and they were swinging out over the abyss. Brie stumbled, trying to stay upright as the rickety boards beneath her feet swayed.

"Jump!"

The dwarves surged forward, but Brie couldn't find her footing, sliding to a stop at the edge of the boards as the bridge swung back the way it had come. The planks shuddered and she glanced over her shoulder. Goblins had managed to leap across and were swarming toward her, the path swinging again like a clock pendulum, toward the rest of the dwarves safe on the other side.

"Briallen!"

She turned. Thorin was reaching out, his eyes blue fire, his face set like stone.

"Jump!"

She jumped. Thorin caught her in one arm and swung his sword with the other, cutting the rope that held the path just as the rest of the dwarves leapt to safety. The goblins screamed as the bridge plummeted into the darkness below. Only then did Thorin set her on her feet again.

"Come on!"

Brie ran after him, following in his wake as he and Gandalf cleared the way, listening to Dwalin muttering in that guttural dwarf language behind her. There was a flash of light and a crash and Brie squeaked, dropping to the ground, but Dwalin scooped her up and hauled her back onto her feet.

"Keep running, lass."

Brie could hear exhaustion edging his voice. They couldn't keep doing this much longer. The boulder Gandalf had dropped in their path cleared the way until it rolled off the edge of the cliff face, but then they were fighting again, running and fighting and Brie wondered if there was any way out of this maze...

The bridge before them exploded and the Great Goblin yanked himself up through the broken planks, sneering.

"You thought you could escape me?!"

He swung his mace, and Gandalf stumbled back, but the dwarves caught him and shoved him back onto his feet. The goblin laughed.

"What are you gonna do now, wizard?"

He took a step and Gandalf raised his staff...

A glinting silver arrow sang through the air in a pretty, graceful arc, and buried itself squarely in the Great Goblin's eye. He screamed and lurched backward, dropping his mace to claw at the protruding object. Gandalf made use of the opportunity and sliced cleanly through the monster's huge belly. The Great Goblin fell to his knees, one hand clutching his gut, the other covering what was left of his eye. He looked up...

Briallen Baggins stood at the wizard's elbow, her bow in her hand, a serene smile that might have been a bit feral touching her lips.

"You really should not have threatened my dwarves."

Gandalf swung his sword again, and the Great Goblin crashed onto the wooden planks, dead.

The bridge shuddered and creaked.

"Sweet...?"

Brie turned toward Nori's tremulous voice... and the world dropped out from under her, ripping a scream from her throat. The bridge bounced along the stone walls, hurtling faster and faster into the dark below the caverns. Brie hit her knees, gripping the edge of the wooden planks so she wouldn't go bouncing off onto the sharp rocks. The bridge slammed into a narrow chasm with a scraping jolt and then slid the last few feet to crash at the bottom of the mountain ravine, tossing Brie onto the cavern floor where she lay for a good moment trying to catch her breath. Gandalf was the first to fight his way out of the wreckage and knelt beside her.

"Briallen," he said, "Are you alright? Are you hurt?"

Brie gulped air and shook her head. The wizard smiled, clearly relieved, and helped her to her feet where they could survey the wreckage.

"Well, that could have been worse!" Bofur said cheerfully, his be-hatted head sticking out of the ruined planks of the bridge.

And then the Great Goblin's body crashed down on top of them. Brie jumped and let out a short shriek.

"You've got to be joking!" Dwalin groaned, pulling himself laboriously out of the mess and limping over to help others work themselves free.

Brie let out a shaking breath and tried to settle her pounding heart, her eyes roaming the scattered debris, taking a head count... and that was when she realized one dwarf wasn't moving.

"Nori..."

She scrambled frantically over the rocks, toward the one dwarf who was still, so still, _too_ still...

"Nori!" she shouted, tugging on his arm, trying to dig him out from under the beam that held him pinned, but it was too heavy and she was too small, "Dwalin, help me!"

Almost before the words had left her mouth, two large hands were gently moving her aside. Dwalin wrapped the other dwarf under the arms and heaved, hauling him out of the rubble and laying him out on the rocky floor. Nori's eyes were still closed and he didn't move. Brie pressed a hand to her mouth, stifling a panicked sob as Dwalin knelt at the dwarf's side, pressing an ear to his chest and listening for what felt to Brie like a lifetime. Then he bent to glare into the other dwarf's unconscious face, firmly patting his cheek with his palm.

"Come on, thief," he muttered, "You've had your fun. Wake up now, you're scaring the lass."

Some dim part of Brie's mind, the part that wasn't clouded with frantic worry, heard something odd in Dwalin's voice, something that made her wonder if she was the only one who was scared...

Nori groaned and Brie nearly collapsed with relief as his eyes fluttered open, staring up at Dwalin for a moment with his brow furrowed in a bewildered daze. Then he tried to move and he groaned again, his face contorted in pain.

"Oh _Mahal_ ," he moaned, "Feels like I've been kicked by an oliphaunt."

Dwalin snorted.

"You'll be fine," he said, standing and roughly pulling the other dwarf to his feet.

"So says you," Nori quipped, stumbling and gripping Dwalin's arm for support.

"Stop your griping," Dwalin muttered, but it sounded half-hearted at best.

" _Gandalf_!"

Kili's scream echoed against the cavern walls and everyone looked up. Brie's heart stopped. Hundreds... No, _thousands_ of goblins were swarming down the sides of the chasm, skittering and crawling down the sheer walls like insects.

"There's too many!" Dwalin shouted, "We can't fight them!"

"Only one thing will save us," Gandalf said, "Daylight! Come on! Here, on your feet!"

And they were running again, the sounds of goblin pursuit echoing against the stone walls as they rushed through narrow passages, following the wizard into the dark. And then suddenly, there was light! Light up ahead, coming from a small opening in the rock, light that could save...

Brie jerked to a stop, almost as if she'd been yanked by an invisible thread. Something was wrong. Something was terribly, terribly _wrong..._

"Bilbo..." she whispered, turning back against the flow of dwarves trying to push her on.

Where was her brother?

"Briallen!" Gandalf cried, but she ignored him, running back, back the way they had come, back toward Bilbo, shoving against the dwarves as they tried to grab her, to pull her the other way, toward the light that would save them.

 _Bilbo..._

She shrieked as she was caught up in the wizard's arms and carried, kicking and screaming, out of the passageway, into the light and away from her brother, her heart being dragged out of her chest with every long-legged stride. Gandalf only put her down when the rest of the company came to a halt, but the second she gained her feet again Brie was running, slipping beneath the wizard's grasping hands and scrambling up the steep hillside. She had nearly gained the high ground and a bit of flatland when a strong grip yanked her back by the elbow and she was glaring up into the icy blue eyes of Thorin Oakenshield. Oh, and how on earth had she _ever_ thought those eyes were beautiful?

"We have to go back!" she shouted, pulling against the dwarf king's iron-strong fingers, "Bilbo's still in there, we have to go back!"

"Your brother is long gone," Thorin growled.

All the breath left Brie's lungs in a rush.

"No," she gasped, shaking her head and trying to catch her breath, "No, you don't understand. He wouldn't..."

"No?" Thorin snarled, "You heard him, just as well as I. He was _leaving_ you, leaving _all of us!_ "

"No..." Brie whispered, stumbling back from the rage on Thorin's face, "No, he wouldn't, not really... He wouldn't..."

"What's happened?" Gandalf asked, his bushy brow furrowed.

"I'll tell you what happened," Thorin snapped, turning to the dwarves huddled around them, "Master Baggins saw his chance and he took it! He's thought of nothing but his soft bed and his warm hearth since first he stepped out of his door!"

Thorin turned back to Brie, his eyes narrowed and cold.

"We will not be seeing your brother again."

He turned to stomp down the hillside and that was when Brie regained use of her limbs.

"No!" she shouted, running and grabbing at his sleeve, pulling at him, trying to stop him, "No, you don't understand! He wouldn't... Together or not at all, _together or not at all_ , Thorin, please! _Please!_ "

She was crying, she could feel the tears tracking down her cheeks, and she knew she wasn't making very much sense, but she couldn't stop, she had to make him understand, she couldn't _leave..._

Thorin whirled on her.

"For the last time, Briallen, your brother is _gone!_ "

"No. He isn't."

Brie spun toward the sound of that voice, that sweet, wonderful voice.

"Bilbo Baggins!" Gandalf exclaimed happily, "I've never been so glad to see anyone in my life!"

Bilbo was standing there on the mountain side, dirty and disheveled and missing all of his waistcoat buttons, but he was _there_ , and he was _alive_ , and Brie was running before she could put thought to her actions, throwing her arms around him and burying her face in his shoulder, allowing a single sob to escape before she pulled herself together again.

"I knew you wouldn't leave me," she mumbled.

Bilbo shook his head, his arms squeezing her so tight she thought she might bruise.

"No," he whispered, "No, never again. Never again, Brie, I promise... I promise."

Brie sniffed and let him go, though reluctantly. She thought she could hold on to him for the rest of her life and it would not be enough.

"Bilbo!" Kili said with youthful delight, "We'd given you up!"

"How on earth did you get past the Goblins?" Fili asked, stunned.

"How indeed?" Dwalin grumbled, his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

Brie glared at the larger dwarf, hoping that he wasn't implying anything untoward about her brother. She really didn't want to be angry at him, it would certainly be a shame after everything...

Bilbo laughed. It was a strange laugh, nervous and edgy, and it drew Brie's gaze… just in time to see her brother slip _something_ into his pocket. One of his missing buttons, perhaps? Why would he be nervous about a waistcoat button? And had he only managed to save the one? That didn't seem much like Bilbo at all.

"Well, what does it matter?" Gandalf said, "He's back!"

"It matters," Thorin said, "I want to know. Why did you come back?"

Brie stepped between the dwarf-king and Bilbo, her fists clenched so tightly she was shaking.

"As if you have _any_ right...!"

"Briallen, please," Bilbo said, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder, "I love you more than anything in the world, but just this once, let me speak for myself."

Brie stared at him for a moment, her mouth open to respond. Then she shut it again. He was right. And besides, nothing she said was going to do anything but make matters worse, the tiny bit of Baggins she had left told her that much at least. She took a tiny step to the side and Bilbo stepped around her, but Brie stayed close, just behind his shoulder, her fists still shaking.

"Look, I know you doubt me. I know you always have. And you're right, I often think of Bag End. I miss my books. And my armchair," He glanced back at Brie and smiled, "Even the garden."

Her breath caught in her throat. She could _see_ it, the garden at Bag End, the flowers wilting all around her, Bilbo puffing on his pipe by the front door, and for the first time since this had started, she felt well and truly homesick.

"See, that's where I belong," Bilbo said, "That's home. And that's why I came back, because..." He looked at the dwarves, all of them, not just Thorin, but Bofur and Balin and Ori, "You don't have one. A home. It was taken from you. But I will help you take it back if I can."

Brie took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Bilbo always knew the right words to say, always knew how to make things right. She needed him, him and his Baggins sense. Green Mother only knew what she would do without him.

She caught Thorin's gaze by mere chance, realized that he was staring at her. That he looked... contrite. Guilty, even. She had never seen such a look on his face before. He opened his mouth as if to speak...

A howl pierced the silent dusk. Brie's heart leapt to her throat.

"No..." she whispered, reaching out and clutching Bilbo's sleeve, "Not now... Please..."

"Out of the frying pan..." Thorin muttered.

"...and into the fire," Gandalf answered, "Run. _Run!_ "

* * *

 **A/N:** And I feel so bad about the chapter break shenanigans that you get a bonus chapter this month! Enjoy! :D


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N:** There's a bit of Khuzdul and a lot of Black Speech in this chapter, translations can be found in the note at the bottom :)

* * *

 **Chapter 12**

The howls of the wargs chased them down the mountainside, running until Brie thought her lungs would burst, but finally they could run no more. The slope ended abruptly in a tree covered cliff and there was nowhere else to run.

Something impossibly large flew over Brie's head and she ducked. A warg hit the ground before her and slid to a stop, snarling and snapping its huge jaws. Brie didn't have time to blink, much less reach for an arrow or fumble for Fili's knives. It was too close, getting closer, and she tripped and fell back as it rushed her...

And then Bilbo was there, between them, and the warg yelped, fell to the ground, and was still. The hilt of Bilbo's little sword protruded out from between its dead eyes. Bilbo had just killed a warg. _Bilbo_ , who had never so much as swatted a spider in his life! For a moment, all the hobbit twins could do was stare.

"Into the trees!" Gandalf shouted, "All of you!"

The wizard's voice got Brie to her feet, lending her weight to help Bilbo pull his sword from the dead warg's skull. It made a nasty, wet, sucking sound as it finally came free, and then Brie was shoving her brother forward blindly toward the tall pines.

"Briallen!"

She looked up and grabbed Nori's outstretched hand, swinging and scrambling into the branches.

"Bilbo?!" she gasped.

"Got him!" Bofur called, and Brie let herself sag against the tree trunk.

Then the wargs were upon them, snarling and throwing themselves against the trees, nearly tossing Brie from her perch. Dwalin caught her and pulled her back, tucking her under his arm as the tree rocked and swayed beneath them.

It stopped just as suddenly as it had begun though, growls and snarls still hanging low in the air, but the wargs were looking back now, looking up…

A pale orc... astride a white warg...

Brie felt her stomach drop. Dwalin's arm around her tightened.

" _Mahal amt_ _úk má..._ "

The pale orc, the one called Azog, moved languidly, his skin gleaming in the light of the pale moon. When he finally spoke, it was in a dark language, guttural and rough, that made Brie's skin crawl. She pressed closer to Dwalin, who seemed to understand a little of what was said because he was growling, a low rumble that Brie _felt_ more than heard in his chest.

Then the orc straightened and shouted, something sharp and pointed, and the wargs threw themselves into the trees with a ferocious abandon, clawing and scrambling up the trunks, trying to find purchase in the branches. One of the beasts leaped up and snapped just below Brie's foot. She screamed and clung to Dwalin.

"Up, lass!" he shouted, pushing her into the branches above and swinging up behind her just as the warg sank his teeth into the branch that had held them. It cracked and the warg tumbled to the ground with a yelp.

But that did not deter the others, clawing and snapping, rocking the tree with such force that it started to tilt.

"Brie!"

She heard Bilbo scream her name, but she was focused now, alert, and she could feel the ice of the river starting to stiffen her nerves and cool her fear, the snarls of the wargs meshing with the memory of wolf growls.

"What do we do?" she shouted over the noise.

"We'll have to jump!" Nori answered, pointing at the nearest tree, where Bofur and Bilbo clung desperately.

It didn't look to be in much better shape than theirs was, honestly, but Brie figured they had little choice. She bent into a crouch, one hand gripping the tree branch, the other held flat on the trunk for balance. She took a deep breath and she could smell river water...

"Jump!" Nori shouted.

Brie jumped, wrapping her arms wildly around a branch near her brother, who hauled her to her feet, his eyes wide.

"Are you alright?" he asked

Brie didn't have time to answer. The tree beneath them creaked and groaned under the additional weight and then it too began to tilt dangerously. Brie grabbed her brother's arm and scanned the area, finding the next tree (which only looked marginally more stable) and preparing to make a second leap.

"Get ready!" she said.

"Ready for what?" Bilbo asked, his voice trembling.

The trees crashed together, and Brie and Bilbo were thrown into the branches, Brie managing to pull herself up and dragging Bilbo with her. She saw Nori being hauled up by Dori, and Bofur was dangling in one of the higher branches but he seemed alright. Dwalin clung to a branch close beside her, his legs swinging as he tried to heave himself higher. Brie reached out, not sure how much help she could be, but...

The tree shuddered and the dwarf slipped.

" _Dwalin_!" she shrieked.

"Gotcha!"

Nori had Dwalin by the hand and pulled him up into the branches, narrowly missing the snapping jaws of the wargs below.

"Suppose this makes us even, guardsman," Nori said.

"I wasn't keepin' score, thief," Dwalin muttered.

One by one the trees continued to fall, moving the dwarves and hobbits closer and closer to the cliff's edge. Finally, only one tree remained and the wargs scrabbled and pushed on the trunk below their dangling feet, pulling up roots and making the stout pine shudder ominously. The pale orc laughed, a dark and dangerous sound that set Brie's teeth on edge. She gripped the trunk of the tree with one hand and held on to her brother with the other and for once the name of the Green Mother came to her mind in the least blasphemous way possible.

 _Yavanna, please... Please let us live... Save us..._

As if in answer, fire fell from the sky and bounced off the back of a warg, sending him yelping and howling away in pain. The other wargs dropped to all fours and growled uncertainly.

"Fili!" Gandalf shouted.

Brie looked up. The wizard had two pine cones set aflame and he let one drop into the hands of the elder prince. Bilbo scrambled across and snatched another pine cone from a nearby branch, pressing it to the one Fili was trying not to let burn his fingers to a crisp. Brie threw herself higher into the branches, gathering pine cones into her arms as she climbed, until she reached the source of the flame.

"Gandalf!" she gasped.

The wizard took one of her stock and set it alight. Brie looked down.

"Ori!" she cried and dropped the flaming missile into the young dwarf's outstretched fingers. She'd seen his skill with a slingshot, she did not think her faith would be too far misplaced.

She was right. Nori's younger brother soon had a stock of flaming pine cones and was lobbing the missiles into the warg pack with uncanny accuracy. Gandalf lit another of her pine cones and the rest Brie lit herself, letting her mind return to winter as she took aim at the snarling beasts below. Even as her fingers blistered, she found she did not mind the heat. The river ice was in her veins.

The cliff below had been set alight and the wargs howled and pulled back, snarling uselessly at the fire that singed their fur. Even the white warg was wary of the flame and his rider snarled and roared his frustration. The dwarves cheered as the wargs retreated, and Brie allowed a pleased smile to touch her lips as the name of a dwarf she had not even known slipped across her mind.

 _For Frerin..._

There was a shuddering lurch and Brie almost lost her balance. And that was when she realized the tree was leaning.

 _No..._ she thought, _Not now, please, not now..._

The fall was slow and arduous, the tree's roots plucking themselves from the ground one by one, faster and faster, but Brie still had time to think, to imagine them falling, as they had fallen so many times in the goblin caves. Only this time there would be nothing to stop them, no convenient narrow spot to slow their decent, only the black night air and the hard, cold ground at the bottom. So many times she had thought they wouldn't survive, with the trolls, on the plains, in the mountains, but that knowledge did not lessen the grim realization that _this was it._ They were going to die.

The tree hit the edge of the cliff with a jolt that knocked Brie off of her branch and left her clinging to the trunk, her feet swinging in open air for a moment before she found purchase in another branch and hauled herself up again.

There was a scream and Brie turned toward it. Ori was dangling from Dori's leg.

"Mister Gandalf!" Dori pleaded.

Dori... Ori... Nori's brothers...

 _Oh Green Mother have mercy, not like this... not to Nori..._

Dori cried out and slipped, but Gandalf's staff shot out quick as lightning and Dori caught it. He couldn't hold on for long, but maybe long enough that they would all fall together and Nori wouldn't have to watch his brothers die before him. _Green Mother, at least grant him that..._

"Brie!"

 _Bilbo..._

He was clinging to a branch just on the other side of her and he looked alright, though his eyes were round and frightened. Oh... Oh how she wanted him to live, to go back to the Shire, to his books, and armchair, and the garden. If she could just reach him and pull him up maybe he could run, maybe the wargs would not trouble with one little hobbit when there were thirteen dwarves, a wizard, and a hobbit-lass just waiting at the bottom of the hill. Bilbo could live.

But he wouldn't. Just as he hadn't run out of the mountains when he'd had the chance, just as he hadn't stayed in Rivendell when she knew the elves would have gladly kept him. He hadn't run then, and he wouldn't run now. Because he knew that she would not run. She would not leave Nori, and Dwalin, and Thorin, and all the rest to die, not while she still had strength left.

 _Together... or not at all._

Movement caught Brie's eye and she turned to watch as one of the dwarves rose to his feet.

"Thorin..." she whispered.

But he couldn't hear her. His feet were planted firmly on the tree trunk and the hot air swirled around him, but he wasn't with them any more. He had gone somewhere else, somewhere far away, and now Brie finally understood what he'd meant when he'd asked her where she'd gone on the plains before Rivendell. Because Thorin was gone now and she knew that no amount of shouting or pleading would bring him back.

Slowly, the dwarf king started to walk down the trunk... toward the wargs...

Toward Azog.

The pale orc crouched over the back of his warg, snarling. And then they were running, roaring, charging. Azog leapt from the rock and Thorin raised his sword...

The warg's front paw struck the dwarf full in the chest and knocked Thorin to the ground. Brie's blood turned to ice. The dwarf king got up, but he was too slow. Azog swung his mace and it smashed into Thorin's face. He fell back and did not rise this time.

The warg got his jaws around the dwarf king and that was when Brie realized she was on her feet. She could hear Nori calling to his brothers, _"Hold on, just hold on!"_ She heard Dwalin shouting, screaming Thorin's name as a branch snapped and he swung out into open air, barely clinging to the tree and still scrambling to reach his cousin... his friend. She heard Ori whimpering. She heard Balin crying. They were going to die. They were all going to die, but Thorin deserved better, better than a white warg's dinner, better than death by the same orc that had killed his grandfather and his father and his brother.

Bilbo was standing beside her, his sword glowing brilliant blue in his hand. Brie looked at her own hands and realized that she could not remember having nocked an arrow to her bow string, but she had.

Thorin cried out as he was flung from the warg's jaws and lay still upon the rocks. The pale orc growled to another of his number, and the other orc dismounted, approaching Thorin with black blade raised while the pale orc looked on.

No.

Thorin was a _king._

He deserved better.

The silver arrow was flying before she even realized she'd drawn, and it glittered in the fire as it flew through the night and buried itself in the orc's shoulder. The creature screamed, and then Bilbo was on it, launching himself through the air and tackling the orc to the ground. Brie thought she faintly heard her name, Nori's voice calling, _Briallen, no, please!_ but she was already running, her steps steady and sure as she raced down the trunk of the tree, reaching for another arrow, setting it to the string. Her feet touched earth, she pulled back and released, the arrow flying straight and true, burying itself in the neck of the great white warg. The creature gave a strangled howl and reared back, throwing its pale rider to the ground. The white warg rolled to its side, writhing and clawing at its throat, and then finally went still.

Brie had reached Thorin. Bilbo was already there, his sword blazing like blue fire in the night as he swung it wildly in front of him. Brie knelt at the king's side.

 _Don't let him be dead, please, please, don't let him be dead..._

The dwarf groaned softly and that was confirmation enough for Brie. She swept to her feet, reaching for another arrow... but her hand came back empty. There were no more silver arrows. A string of curses flooded her thoughts as she swung her now useless bow across her back. She still had Fili's knives in her belt and she brought them out, clutching them in shaking hands. The pale orc had risen. He was grinning at them, a horrible toothy snarl.

" _Azubul_ _ûk,_ " he growled.

The wargs began to close in. Brie pressed her shoulder to her brother's, taking comfort in his presence even if she knew he was just as scared as she. If they were to die tonight, she was glad that at least she was with him. That made everything not quite so bad.

"Together..." she whispered.

"...or not at all," Bilbo answered.

The river ice ran in Brie's veins. She tensed.

A mighty roar filled the air, and Dwalin leapt out of the shadows and latched himself onto an orc, throwing it from the back of its warg. Fili and Kili shot like blurs after him, dwarven blades blazing in the firelight as they whirled through the wargs and orcs, slashing and stabbing. One warg and rider broke through the melee and launched itself at Brie and Bilbo, and Brie tensed for the impact, ready to shove her brother to safety.

A clang rang in Brie's ears as warg and orc were flung to the side by a huge mace and Nori leaped on the beast with a snarl, bringing the mace down on the head of the orc rider before he had time to draw his blade. Bilbo let out a cry and launched himself upon the warg itself, slashing blindly with his sword, but managing to find the creature's throat. Brie gripped her knives and stood ready, knowing that she was now the only thing standing between Thorin and...

There was a roar and Brie turned, but too slow. The metal claw of the pale orc caught her across the face and sent her sprawling in the dirt. She felt something warm trickle down her face and her head spun as she struggled onto her side.

" _Globlob-gaz!_ " Azog snarled, crouched close to her, watching her with those nasty black eyes, " _Kh_ _ûrub-izg hûnlût-lab, thrang ghaashub u-ta hiisht!_ "

She didn't understand the words, but she didn't have to. She could see the gleam in those eyes, the same gleam that had lit them when he looked at Thorin.

 _Thorin..._

Without meaning to, her eyes flicked to the dwarf king, lying still on the rocks not five feet from where Azog crouched. She might be able to reach him in time...

Azog followed her eyes. A feral grin spread across his face.

"Ahhhh..." he said, almost purring now, " _Âshûrz... Honub-lat ta grish..._ "

And the pale orc lunged for the dwarf.

" _No!_ " Brie screamed and launched herself at the orc, slashing out with Fili's knife.

She felt the blade find flesh. She dug in and then ripped down, putting all her weight behind it. Azog roared so loudly that Brie's ears rang with it and he lurched back, clutching at his face. Black blood welled between his fingers. Brie stumbled, barely keeping her feet. Her vision was starting to fade around the edges. If the pale orc came for her now, she wouldn't have the strength to stop him, but perhaps she could buy Thorin a little more time, time for someone else to take her place, to defend him, to keep him alive... Dwalin... or Fili...

A high keening screech pierced the air. Brie blinked.

Eagles. Giant eagles as big as horses descended from the night sky, outstretched talons tossing groups of orcs and wargs from the cliffs like rag dolls, huge wings beating at the raging flames, throwing up sparks and ash and smoke. Brie turned her face from the flying sparks, and saw one eagle gently pluck Thorin from the ground and, with a great flap of wings, carry him away into the night. His oaken shield clattered to the ground beside her.

No.

He needed his shield.

It was his name.

He'd earned it.

Without really thinking, Brie picked up the shield and clutched it to her chest. He would want it back, she knew it, somewhere in her mind, so clouded and blurry, she knew that Thorin would want it back.

Azog was roaring at the sky, toward the retreating eagles, and Brie could see figures on their backs now. Relief welled up in her chest. The dwarves. They had rescued the dwarves. Azog turned his glittering eyes back on her and she met them without fear. There was a long bloody gash down the right side of his face, from his temple all the way through his cheek. She could see his teeth through the ripped flesh as he snarled at her. She smirked.

"Azog the Defiler," she said, her voice hoarse from the smoke, "Marked by a hobbit."

The orc snarled and tensed to strike out at her. Brie didn't even flinch. She had known all along that she was going to die. At least she would die knowing the others were safe.

"Brie!"

Bilbo's frightened squeak made Brie jump and look up, past Azog. But before she could really register what she was seeing, she was swept off her feet and tossed off the cliff face. She could hear Bilbo scream beside her, but she couldn't seem to catch her breath. All she could do was close her eyes and cling to Thorin's shield. She landed quite sooner than she'd expected and in much softer circumstances. She opened her eyes. She was surrounded by golden feathers, ruffled by wind. Bilbo was beside her, clinging to the feathers as they flapped and rustled around them. She gripped the back of the eagle with a free hand and held on as they flew off into the night, Azog's deafening roars echoing behind them.

* * *

When they landed, the morning sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon and Brie thought that she was going to be sick. Her head spun and all she wanted was to close her eyes and lay down on the cool stone of the outcropping. But she couldn't. Not now, while her heart was racing and her breath felt like it was stuck in her throat.

Thorin lay where the eagle had left him. He was still. _Too_ still. Gandalf slid from an eagle's back and raced past the hobbits to the king's side, kneeling and whispering as the dwarves slowly gathered around them. But Brie held back, clutching Thorin's shield to her chest with a fierceness she hadn't realized she possessed.

"Don't you dare..." she whispered, watching Gandalf bend over the still form, "You simple-minded, stubborn, beautiful creature, don't you _dare..._ "

There was a tense moment when it seemed like everyone held their breath. Brie's fingers tightened on the shield until they ached. And then a deep, resonate whisper floated back to them.

"The halflings?"

Brie sagged with relief, putting a hand on Bilbo's shoulder to keep upright. He was alive. He was _alive_.

"It's alright," Gandalf said soothingly, "They're both here. And quite safe."

Slowly, and with a lot of help from his nephews, Thorin got to his feet. His face was an emotionless mask, but Briallen didn't care. He was on his feet. He was on his feet and walking toward them and he was _alive..._

"What did you think you were doing? You nearly got yourselves killed!"

On any other day, at any other time, Brie's temper would have flared at the dwarf king's sharp tone. She would have glared and put her hands on her hips and shouted until they were both hoarse and blue in the face. But today... today, her head was spinning and she was tired, tired of being angry, tired of fighting, just... _tired_. So today, instead of standing strong, she flinched away from Thorin's angry words and just let them come.

"Did I not say that you would be a burden?" he growled, "That you would not survive in the wild? That you had no place amongst us?"

The dwarf stepped closer and for once Bilbo was the brave one, because he did not step away, but Brie was not that strong. She was too tired to stand beneath those angry eyes and so, while Thorin's gaze seemed fixed on Bilbo, she tried to shuffle out of sight. Maybe she could just lay down on the rock, just lay down and go to sleep and no one would notice...

"I have never been so wrong, in all my life."

Brie could only stare as Thorin Oakenshield reached out and embraced her brother. The other dwarves cheered and Brie felt tears prick her eyes, but she blinked and kept them at bay. She would not cry. She could do that at least, keep that little bit of her dignity intact. Thorin and Bilbo broke apart and Brie realized she was still staring. She took another shuffling step back, hoping to simply fade into the dwarven group of faces before she was noticed and...

Thorin patted Bilbo's arms, and his eyes fixed on her. She unintentionally flinched from his gaze, shrinking back and wondering if she could still get away, still fade back into the dwarves without a word. His eyes were not unkind, but she didn't want meaningless words, or platitudes. She would rather he didn't speak at all...

His brow furrowed and he stepped toward her, slowly, cautiously, as if he was afraid she would spook. Brie swallowed and stood her ground, but barely.

"What do you have there?" he asked, his voice a soft rumble.

She jumped and clutched the shield to her chest for a moment before she remembered what it was and why she had it in the first place. Slowly, she loosened her grip and held it out to him.

"I... thought you might want it back."

She saw his breath hitch when he recognized it and she swallowed nervously. Slowly, Thorin reached out and took the shield, allowing his fingers to brush the tips of her own as he slipped it out of her hand. He turned it over, examining it for a brief moment before he met her eyes again.

"Thank you," he murmured.

Maybe she was just exhausted, maybe she was just relieved, or maybe it was something in his voice, something she had never heard before any time he'd spoken to her, but for the first time, Brie relaxed in Thorin's presence. She gave him a small smile...

...and then the darkness closed in and she passed out on the rock.

* * *

 **Khuzdul Translations:**

 _Mahal amt_ _úk má-_ Mahal give us strength

 **Black Speech Translations:**

 _Azubul_ _ûk-_ Kill them

 _Globlob-gaz!-_ Foolish little girl!

 _Kh_ _ûrub-izg hûnlût-lab, thrang ghaashub u-ta hiisht!-_ I will rip your heart out and burn it to ash!

 _Âshûrz... Honub-lat ta grish...-_ First... You will watch him bleed...


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

When Brie woke, she wasn't quite sure where she was. It was still daytime, afternoon if the light was any indication. There was a small fire crackling nearby and she could hear the sound of water gurgling somewhere in the distance. She tried to sit up, but groaned as every muscle in her body protested the movement and her vision swam.

"Oh no, sweet, you don't want to do that."

Nori's whispered voice soothed her and his hands gently pressed her back to the ground, tucking a blanket around her again. She closed her eyes and allowed the dwarf to fuss for a moment while she willed her head to stop spinning.

"Where's Bilbo?" she asked finally.

"Sleeping," Nori said, "Most everyone is sleeping, actually. It's been a rough few days, Thorin said we could take a breather, just until you woke up."

 _Everyone..._

And then Brie remembered and her eyes flew open, her hands grasping frantically for his arm or any other place she could find purchase.

"Nori! Your brothers...!"

"They're fine, sweetheart, everyone's fine," he murmured, untangling one of her hands from his jacket and squeezing it gently before he released her and slid a hand under her neck, supporting her head, which felt as if it might spin right off her shoulders now, "Come on. Oin said you should drink this, soon as you came to."

 _Fine... everyone's fine._ Brie took a shuddering breath and sipped from the cup Nori held to her lips. It was cool and clean, fresh tasting, and Brie stole another gulp before Nori took it away.

"There now," he said, "Should be feeling better in no time."

"Nori, what happened?" she asked, already feeling the draught begin to smooth away the worst of her aches, "Where are we?"

"Well, currently, we are at the foot of the Carrock, where the eagles dropped us off," Nori said, "Dori had to carry you down the stairs after you dropped like a sack of potatoes at the king's feet."

"I _what_?" Brie squeaked.

Nori flapped a hand at her, as if this were of little concern, "Don't worry, Oin said you had a pretty nasty blow to the head. Said it was a miracle you'd stayed conscious as long as you had, actually. Gave us all a pretty nasty shock, though."

 _Oh blessed Green Mother..._ Brie buried her burning face in her hands and groaned. She remembered now. And after she'd worked so hard, for so long, to convince them all that she was strong enough for this... fainted. Right in front of _Thorin_ , no less, she could just imagine what the dwarf-king had said to that. Fainted, dead away, after everything...

"You know, sweet, it was right stupid what you and your brother did up there," Nori said, his halting, hesitant voice jerking Brie out of her painful humiliation for a moment, "Brave, I'll grant you that, but incredibly _stupid_ and you're never to do anything like it ever again. Thought I was gonna lose you, you know. Thought I lost… lost everything."

This last was so soft that Brie almost didn't hear. She wasn't even sure if she had been _meant_ to hear it, but before she could form any kind of reply…

"Brie?"

That sleepy little voice was like music to her ears. Bilbo's face appeared over Nori's shoulder, peering down with sleepy eyes and tousled curls, a worried frown creasing his brow.

"Nori, you said you'd wake me, you promised-"

Brie reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, muffling his protests in her shoulder.

"Bilbo…" she whispered, closing her eyes and breathing in his familiar scent, earth and pipe weed.

He was safe. They were _all_ safe.

Bilbo caught her and pulled her into his lap, holding her and taking deep breaths as if to reassure himself.

"It's alright," he whispered, over and over, "It's alright, it's alright..."

They only got a few moments of this, this relief and peace and joy, before Oin woke and insisted on taking a look under the thick bandage wrapped around Brie's head. The healer was in the process of applying a nasty smelling salve to the wound at her temple when the others started to rouse and began gathering around her.

Dwalin was the first to approach and, in what might have almost been called a shy manner (except that the words "Dwalin" and "shy" were completely contradictory, and Brie could not imagine the two being used in the same breath), asked permission to attempt a simple braid to hold back her hair and make bandaging easier. Brie granted it gladly and he settled behind her, taking extra care not to pull or tug on her in anything but the gentlest way.

As he worked, Dori pressed a cup of tea into her hand (which she took with a smile that was grateful for more than just the tea), and Ori showed her the sketch he'd started of the battle on the cliff (which Brie showered praise upon, while she took the opportunity to wrap her arm around the younger dwarf's shoulders and hug him to be sure he was really there). Bombur set to work on an evening meal (though they had little but a few fish they'd managed to catch in the nearby stream) and the others all hovered in various degrees, setting up a lopsided circle that somehow encompassed both Brie and the fire.

It wasn't until Fili and Kili plopped down in front of her with gleefully similar expressions on their faces, that Brie realized _all_ the dwarves were looking at her a bit strangely. The older ones were more subtle about it, to be sure, but every one of them had surrounded her with an air of almost awe. She narrowed her eyes and tried to grab her brother's attention with a look, but he was leaning over Ori's shoulder, correcting some detail or other in his sketch. She looked next for Gandalf, but he was nowhere to be found.

"Where's our wizard?" she asked.

"Scouting," Dwalin answered, "Seeing if we've got any pursuers."

"Not likely, eh Fee?" Kili said, elbowing his brother good-naturedly, "Not after the slice Azog took from that knife! Azog the Defiler, marked by a hobbit!"

Brie flinched at her own words, words spoken as if they were her last, echoed back to her. Neither Fili nor Kili seemed to notice.

"Not likely he'll want to come anywhere near us or our burglars for a good long while!" Fili agreed, punching his brother in the arm, "Not after something like that!"

"We are in as much danger as we ever were."

Thorin's rumbling voice cut through his nephews' good humor like thunder on a hot summer day. Brie had not dared to look at him since she'd come around and did not dare it now, choosing instead to study her hands folded in her lap.

"Miss Baggins has made a powerful enemy. Azog is not easily deterred in his pursuits and his wrath should not be taken lightly. We have injured not just his body, but his pride and he will not forget it."

Brie swallowed. She'd put them all in danger. That's what he was saying. Her rash actions on the cliff, trying desperately to save Thorin's life, had endangered them all. She could still hear Azog's roar echoing off the mountain side, and she knew he would not forget. He was coming for her, her and all those she cared about, and there was little she could do but run.

Brie's eyes lifted, just for a brief moment, and caught Thorin's gaze quite by accident. He sat on the other side of the fire, as far from her as could be managed it seemed, and when their eyes touched, he turned away almost immediately. Brie returned to her examination of her fingernails, embarrassed. She had dropped at his feet in a dead faint. Green Mother, how was she ever going to look him in the eye again?

"Don't mind him, lass," Dwalin muttered in her ear, "He's just an idiot is all. Let's his mouth get away from him before his mind catches up."

"It doesn't bother me," Brie said quickly, almost too quickly.

But it _didn't_ bother her. What did she care if the ungrateful King Under the thrice-cursed Mountain couldn't look her in the eye after she'd saved his sorry skin? What did it matter to her? She hadn't done it to garner his favor, she had done it because... well, because it was the right thing to do! It's not as if she'd expected things to be any different…

… _his fingers brushing hers..._

… _the soft murmured "Thank you" of his voice..._

… _his eyes... His blindingly blue eyes..._

"Lass?"

She jumped and shook her head to clear it. Ridiculous. It was all ridiculous nonsense and she wouldn't stand for it. She was a grown hobbit, well into middle-age, and she didn't have the time or the temperament for… whatever it was that was threatening to put her out of sorts.

"Yes, Dwalin, sorry," she said, "What was that? I'm afraid I was having a daydream."

And with that, she put the whole matter quite out of her mind, where it belonged.

* * *

Gandalf appeared just as the sun was beginning to set, bringing the news that they'd all hoped against hope not to hear: Azog was in pursuit. The eagles had put him off the trail, but he was traveling in their general direction and there was no doubt that he would soon be in a position to track them in earnest.

In the wake of this, no one really complained when Thorin insisted they pack up camp and move out, even though the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon. Everyone had gotten a nap and they were relatively rested, if a little stiff and sore, from their encounter with the wargs. Brie got to her feet and managed to only sway for a moment before finding her equilibrium again. She thought no one had noticed... until Nori appeared out of seemingly nowhere and slipped an arm through hers.

"Alright, sweet?" he asked, in the same cheeky manner he always had.

"I'm fine," Brie answered automatically, attempting to disentangle herself from the dwarf's grip, "I'm alright, Nori, really."

She escaped his grasp, only to back straight into the chest of another dwarf. Dwalin was scowling down at her suspiciously.

"Perhaps we ought to wait a while longer, you did have a nasty blow," he mused, considering, "I'll tell Thorin..."

"No!" Brie squeaked, stumbling out of the circle of dwarves that had started to gather around her, "No, I'm fine, I can keep up!"

The dwarves exchanged glances.

"No one is doubting you, lass," Balin said, finally, "We know you can keep up."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Brie asked, gulping down the panic that had started to creep up her throat, "Do you think Azog will wait to recover from _his_ injuries before he overtakes us?"

"She's right," Thorin spoke up from the edge of the group, "We've no more time to delay. We must seek cover and quickly."

"Uncle..." Fili began.

"Enough!" Thorin snapped, cutting him off, "We're leaving. Now."

That effectively ended the argument, and Brie took a deep breath of relief. Nori was glaring at the king's back, but Brie touched his arm and smiled when he scowled down at her.

"I really am alright, Nori," she said, squeezing his elbow, "Truly."

He clenched his hazel eyes shut and tightened his jaw briefly, then let it all loose in a breath. He smiled.

"Stubborn _mim givasha,_ " he said, touching his finger playfully to her nose.

She shook off the touch and rubbed at the tickling spot with fond irritation.

"I don't know what that means," she said primly.

"I know," Nori said, a sparkle of his normal cheekiness touching his eyes again, "That's the fun of it."

He winked and then he was gone. Brie rolled her eyes and turned, nearly running smack into Bilbo, his arms crossed, a worried crease seeming permanently etched in his brow.

"Oh Bilbo, not you too," she said, looping her arm with his as the party began to head out into the gathering dusk, "There's really no need to fret, I'm…"

"I saw him," Bilbo said softly, cutting her off, "I saw him hit you, Brie. And there was nothing I could do. All I could think was that I should have been there, I should have done something…"

"It's not as if you had a choice," Brie said, "If it hadn't been for you we would have been eaten by wargs long before Azog ever got to us."

"I should have been there," Bilbo said, almost as if he hadn't heard her, "Right there, beside you to the end, together or not at all, and I…"

Brie pulled him up short, letting the others rush on past, taking the time to look her brother in the eye.

"Now you listen and listen well, Bilbo Baggins," she said, "You did _not_ abandon me. You might not have been right by my side the whole time, but you were _with_ me, protecting me, the best way you knew how and that is very much the same thing. Because sometimes, Bilbo, being together doesn't mean side-by-side. It means that you are _here_ ," She put a hand over her heart, "And I am _here_ ," She put her other hand over his heart, "And that means we are never alone. Together or not at all, even when we are apart."

"Bilbo! Briallen!"

Bofur's cheerful voice echoed over the empty plains from the crest of a small hill. The others had disappeared over the other side, the silhouette of Bofur's hat the only thing that remained, waiting for them. Brie took Bilbo's hand.

"Come on," she said, "Dwarves wait for no hobbit, it seems."

Bofur grinned and ruffled Bilbo's hair when they caught him up, and Brie could see Nori and Dwalin waiting at the bottom of the hill, the others still jogging ahead into the dark. As they all ran to catch them she could just see, in the light of the rising moon, that the frown on Bilbo's brow had disappeared.

* * *

They ran. They ran all through the night and well into the next day before they stopped to rest for a few hours, and then they ran again. Brie's dizziness faded and was replaced by exhaustion, but she kept up just as she'd said she would.

On the third day, they heard the howls.

Brie was on her feet, reaching for her bow, even before the echo of the first howl had faded. It was a testament to her exhaustion that she'd completely forgotten she had no arrows. She relaxed her grip on the bow reluctantly, flexing her free hand uneasily.

"They've found us," Dwalin growled, standing at her side, an axe in his own hand.

"Not yet, but they will," Gandalf muttered, almost absently, his eyes staring somewhere into the middle distance.

"Time to move," Thorin ordered, pushing to his feet.

The others followed his example, and soon they were running again, but now Brie was troubled by something else, something other than the howls. Something about the way Thorin moved, _almost_ seeming to favor his right leg, _almost_ wincing with each breath, _almost..._ but not quite, not enough to garner attention, not enough unless you were looking for it. Brie had a flash of memory, Thorin clenched in white fangs, glinting in fire light, flung to the side, slammed into stone... Suddenly Brie wondered how much pain the dwarf king was _actually_ in, and whether she was the only one who had wondered… Then another howl pierced the air and her thoughts scattered as she ran.

They ran well into the night before they stopped for a rest, gathering at the foot of a steep incline, some of the dwarves collapsing to the ground where they stood. Thorin put his hand against the trunk of a tree, barely seeming to lean against it, but now that Brie was looking for it, she could see his weight shifting off his right leg. Something was definitely wrong and she felt another flare of worry.

"We're running blind," Dwalin grumbled, leaning on his axe to catch his breath, "We need to scout, see what kind of lead we still have."

"If we _have_ any lead," Nori huffed, sprawled out on the ground at Brie's feet, "Could've sworn they were a step from our necks by the sound of it."

"We could do it," Brie said, finally catching her breath enough to stand straight, "Bilbo and I; we could take a look."

"Sounds like the ideal task for a pair of burglars actually," Bilbo agreed, straightening beside her.

The dwarves all exchanged looks, and then glanced up at Gandalf, who only smiled enigmatically and leaned on his staff, clearly ignoring the Company's deference to his judgment. Finally, it was Thorin who spoke.

"Very well," The dwarf-king gave both hobbits a stern look, "Straight up the hill, a quick look, and right back down. No unnecessary risks."

He seemed to stare at Brie in particular as he said this last bit. Brie chewed the inside of her cheek and forced herself to meet his gaze.

"Got it," Bilbo said, "Come on, Brie."

The two hobbits scrambled up the slope and Brie could make out what sounded like the beginnings of a muttered argument among the dwarves behind them, but she tuned it out, concentrating instead on where she put her feet and keeping her brother in sight. They slipped silently up the steep incline, gliding through the few trees that scattered the landscape. When they reached the top it became obvious that they wouldn't be able to see anything from their current position. They would have to move farther out.

Brie waved a hand and got Bilbo's attention. She motioned toward a small pile of rocks jutting out beyond the crest of the ridge, set up high on the plains. It would provide cover once they reached it, but it was surrounded on all sides by quite a bit of sparsely covered ground. Reaching it might be a risk, but if they wanted to have anything to report, they needed to get to that point.

Bilbo bit his lip and seemed to consider all of this, even as Brie thought of it herself. Thorin had said no unnecessary risks. But this seemed like a risk worth taking. Bilbo appeared to agree. He met her eyes and nodded, motioning that he would go first. Brie decided it wasn't worth an argument.

She watched Bilbo suck in a breath… and then he shot out of the undergrowth, nearly sprinting over the open ground to reach the rocky outcrop. Brie waited only half a moment before she took off after him, keeping his flapping red coat in her line of sight. She had the mad idea that she should ask one of the dwarves to carve her brother new buttons for his waistcoat if they survived this, but quickly put the thought out of her mind. When would any of them have the time to carve buttons?

Her heart was pounding by the time she reached the rocks and scrambled in among the crevices, following the tail of her brother's coat. They made it to the top and collapsed behind a boulder. Brie met her brother's gaze and grinned. Bilbo rolled his eyes, but a small smile cracked the facade. They took a moment to catch their breath. Then, slowly, ever so slowly, they peeked over the rocks.

Brie felt her blood run cold with river ice. Wargs were scattered across the rocky plain, some scenting the air, some with noses to the ground, searching for their trail. And leading the pack, pale skin almost glowing in the moonlight, was Azog. He was astride a warg that was clearly too small, which made Brie smirk even as the freezing ice of the winter river ran through her. The pale orc turned his head toward them briefly and Brie stopped breathing for a moment, pressing her shoulder to Bilbo's in a desperate search for the warmth of him to bring her back from the fear that threatened to overrun her. But Azog's eyes slid over their position, unseeing. Bilbo covered one of Brie's hands with his and only then did she realize her fingers were cramping from the force of her hold on the rock. She forced a breath in through her nose and relaxed her grip, turning her hand to lace her fingers with her brother's.

Something snarled and both hobbits dropped into the crevices of the rock, eyes wide, hearts fluttering. Bilbo saw it first, and tapped Brie's shoulder, pointing to something behind her. She turned.

A huge dark shape stood atop an outcropping of rock much like their own. It was furred, but it was not a warg, no warg was that large. No creature that Brie had _ever seen_ was that large. It watched the approaching wargs, a low growl rumbling in the night air as the pack advanced.

 _What in the name of the Green Mother...?_

Bilbo tugged on Brie's hand, still held in his, tearing her eyes from the horrific sight. He motioned downward and Brie nodded. They needed to tell the others. They dropped carefully to the base of the rock formation, pausing to test the air and check the open ground surrounding them.

A monstrous roar ripped the air, and the hobbits ran.

They ran and they did not stop until they were stumbling down the incline and into the group of waiting dwarves. Brie happened to run straight into Nori, who (rather than being bowled over) grabbed her around the waist and used the momentum to swing her full circle before setting her lightly on her feet again.

"Hello, sweet, did you miss me that much?" he asked with a grin.

Brie was still catching her breath and only gripped Nori's sleeves in reply. The grin faltered a bit.

"How close is the pack?" Dwalin growled, on his feet, axe held ready.

"Too close," Bilbo answered breathlessly, his hands on his knees, "A couple of leagues, no more, but that is not the worst of it."

"Have the wargs picked up our scent?"

"Not yet, but they will," Brie said, finally catching her breath, but not yet willing to release her hold on Nori's sleeve, for fear of trembling, "We have another problem."

"Did they see you?" Gandalf asked, an edge of panic in his voice, "They saw you!"

Brie and Bilbo exchanged a quick look of exasperation.

"No, no that's not it..." Bilbo said, but Gandalf was already grinning and talking over him.

"What did I tell you? Quiet as mice, excellent burglar material!"

The other dwarves started chuckling and murmuring pleased agreements and while that was all well and good, they weren't _listening!_

"Will you just...? Could you please...?" Bilbo tried a few times, only to be spoken over.

"Oh for goodness sake... Would you all _shut up_ and _listen!"_ Brie exclaimed, stomping her foot for emphasis.

The dwarves paused, and Brie pointed into the distance angrily.

"We are trying to tell you, there is _something else_ out there!"

The dwarves exchanged nervous glances.

"What form did it take?" Gandalf asked and before Brie could conjure up words to describe it, "Like a bear?"

Brie blinked.

"Ye... Yes," Bilbo stuttered, "But... bigger, _much_ bigger."

"You _knew_ about this beast?" Bofur snarled, stepping in front of Bilbo, a mattock in one hand.

But Gandalf seemed to be deep in his own contemplations and was no longer listening. That was becoming an annoying habit of his. Bofur shook his head and turned to Thorin, who had yet to speak.

"I say we double back."

"And be run down by a pack of orcs?" Thorin asked.

"There is a house," Gandalf announced, "Not far from here, where we might take refuge."

Brie narrowed her eyes at the wizard. A house? And he was only telling them about it now?

"Whose house?" Thorin asked, mirroring her own suspicion in his tone, "Are they friend or foe?"

"Neither," Gandalf declared, "He will help us, or he will kill us."

Brie balked and Nori tugged her closer to him. She started to reach for her brother, but Bofur had a hand on Bilbo's shoulder and that gave her comfort.

"What choice do we have?" Thorin asked.

A roar split the night and Brie jumped.

"Apparently, none at all," she said, her mouth running before her mind could quite catch up to it, "I vote for the house of ambiguous loyalties."

"Seconded!" Nori shouted.

"All in favor?" Bofur cried.

 _"_ _ **Aye!"**_ the dwarves chorused, and they were running again, chased by the howls of wargs and the echoes of roars that had Brie's blood running cold and her hands itching for arrows.

* * *

They ran toward a group of trees set up in what might have been called a hedge if it were smaller, and as they passed under the branches, Brie managed to catch sight of a giant structure on the far side.

"To the house!" Gandalf shouted, "Run!"

Another roar crashed over them, so loud it seemed almost upon them, and the dwarves sprinted across the open field, throwing themselves against the closed double doors. They didn't budge.

"Open the door!" Gandalf shouted.

"Quickly!" Thorin added.

Brie heard another roar and her nerves stilled into the chilled quiet of the river. She didn't look back, for fear she'd be frozen. Instead she put her mind to the problem of the closed door... and noticed the latch just above Dwalin's head.

 _Idiots..._ some tiny part of her mind scoffed uncharitably.

"Move!" she shouted aloud.

Shoving her way through the panicking dwarves, she grabbed the straps of Dwalin's leather harness, hauled herself up over his shoulder, and flipped the latch.

The doors fell open and the dwarves stumbled into the house. Brie lost her balance and hit the dirt just outside, landing on her back hard enough to knock the breath out of her. The bear roared.

"Briallen!"

Someone grabbed her ankles and dragged her inside just as the dwarves shoved the doors closed behind her. The bear was already upon them, its huge black muzzle snapping and snarling not two paces from where Brie lay gasping on the ground, caught in the door as the dwarves put their collective strength behind it.

"Come on, lads!" she heard Dwalin shout from somewhere.

There was a final heave and, _finally_ , the doors shut, the latch bolted across it. The bear gave a roar of frustration and Brie shut her eyes tight, still gasping for breath.

"Briallen?"

Thorin's voice floated over her and large, warm hands cupped her face, the fingers tense against her skin.

"Briallen, open your eyes."

She managed to gulp down an actual breath of air before she did as the king commanded. His brow was furrowed and his blue eyes roved her face.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, his voice clipped and strained.

She didn't have enough breath in her to risk trying to speak so she settled for shaking her head wordlessly instead. The creased brow smoothed instantly and his hands removed themselves from her face. She felt the absence of their warmth keenly.

"Is she alright?" Bilbo squeaked from somewhere out of sight, "Is she hurt? Why isn't she saying anything?"

"She's only lost her breath, Master Baggins," Thorin said, sweeping to his feet and leaving Brie staring up at him from the ground, "Give her a moment and I'm sure she'll have plenty to say."

Brie narrowed her eyes at the dwarf king's turned back. She got the vague impression that she should be offended, but couldn't think of a satisfying retort and so bit her tongue. Nori appeared above her and offered her a hand, hauling her to her feet.

"Thank you," she managed to say, finally feeling as though she could breathe again.

"What _was_ that?" Ori asked, staring at the now closed door with a mixture of horror and awe.

"That," Gandalf said, his eyes crinkling, "Is our host."

Everyone stared at Gandalf in dumbfounded bewilderment for a solid five seconds. Thorin was right. Brie now had quite a lot to say.

"Are you _mad?!_ "

Well, that was a start.

Gandalf gave her a twinkling grin that, had there been a conveniently placed stepstool available, Brie might have slapped right off his face.

"His name is Beorn," he said as if she hadn't spoken, "And he is a skin-changer."

"I don't care if his name is Harriet and he's the lord of teddy bears!" Brie exclaimed, "He was _chasing_ us, with decidedly _less than friendly_ intentions, and you've just locked us _in his house!_ "

"I admit that the bear can be somewhat... unpredictable…"

"Unpre... _Unpredictable?!"_ Brie shouted, "I'd say he was quite fully _predictable_ , Gandalf, I _predict_ that he is going to _eat us_!"

"…but when he is in human form, Beorn _can be reasoned with_!"

Gandalf thumped his staff on the ground in emphasis and the crystal embedded in the wood flashed blue briefly. Brie snapped her mouth shut. She still remembered what it had felt like when Gandalf had lost his temper in her dining room all those weeks ago. Even after everything she had faced since then, it was not an experience she was eager to repeat.

"However..." Gandalf said, almost reluctantly, now leaning on his staff for support, "He is not... _overly fond_ of dwarves."

Brie rolled her eyes skyward and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"No, of course he isn't," she sighed, "Because dealing with a ferocious skin-changing bear that might _possibly_ be reasoned with at some point in the indeterminate future, that wasn't difficult enough. Now he might choose to eat us based purely on _principle_. Brilliant. Absolutely marvelous. I've come all this way, only to be eaten by a morally ambiguous bear with a grudge. Of course I have."

"He's leaving!" Ori hissed, peeking through a crack in the door.

"Well that's a start," Bofur said cheerfully, leaning on his mattock next to Bilbo.

"Come away from there!" Dori fussed, yanking Ori back by his coat collar.

"We should get some rest," Gandalf said, still leaning wearily on his staff, "All will look better in the morning light."

"And tastier I imagine," Brie grumbled under her breath.

"Gandalf is right," Thorin said, "Get some sleep, all of you. I will hold the first watch."

He took a step... and limped. He took another step and yes, that was _definitely_ a limp.

"No, you won't," Brie declared, blocking his way, hands on her hips, "You, _sit_."

She pointed to a pile of hay in a corner that looked marginally comfortable. Thorin flicked his eyes to the hay, then raised an eyebrow at her. Brie ignored him.

"Oin!" she shouted, louder than might have strictly been necessary (the healer's ear trumpet was still flattened after all), "Your king requires your attention!"

"I think, Miss Baggins, that I am perfectly capable of determining for myself..."

Brie whirled on Thorin with a fury she had not felt in days, perhaps weeks.

"You have been kicked by a warg, crushed in its jaws, and tossed about like a rag doll!" she shouted, poking her finger to his chest forcefully, "You nearly _died_! And we have been running for days and not _once_ have I seen anyone tending your wounds! You will _sit_ , Thorin Oakenshield, and you will _stay_ for as long as Oin determines you need to, _longer_ if I am not satisfied, and if I hear _one more word_ of protest, Green Mother help me, I will _kill you myself_ , and your nephews can inherit your thrice-cursed mountain! Is that _perfectly_ _clear_?"

Thorin's eyes burned as he scowled down at her, but Brie didn't give him even a single inch, folding her arms and glaring right back, just _daring_ him to test her resolve. She might be about to fall down from exhaustion, but she was fairly certain she could at least get her hands on Fili's knives, and her temper was so frayed she wasn't sure if she would be able to restrain herself if it got to that point.

But after several moments of heavy silence, Thorin did something completely unexpected. He sat. Brie watched with widening eyes as the dwarf king gingerly lowered himself onto the hay stack, and then looked back up at her with something between a smirk and a glare.

"Satisfied?" he asked.

Brie found herself at a loss for words. Quite frankly she had expected she would have to call on Dwalin to restrain him before Thorin would allow Oin to give him a proper look. She had never thought...

She shut her mouth and turned on her heel to face Oin, who looked almost as dumbfounded as she felt.

"He's favoring his right leg and wincing when he breathes," she snapped, pointing back in Thorin's direction, "See to it."

The healer scurried away and Brie next fixed Dwalin with her glare and pointing finger.

"You; he's _your_ cousin. See that he stays put."

Dwalin's shocked expression slowly melted into a grin that made Brie inexplicably uncomfortable.

"Aye, _mimelhekhinh_ ," he said, sketching an almost courtly bow.

Fili and Kili both snorted simultaneously and got the business end of Brie's scowl for their trouble, cutting off their laughter before it had even properly begun. She did not know what that strange dwarvish word meant, but she was not about to give any of them the satisfaction of asking for a definition. She simply nodded and marched off, now confident that Thorin would be tended, whether he liked it or not.

The rest of the company settled in for the night, making beds of hay and cloaks, slowly dropping off to sleep. But Brie sat up for a good long while, running her fingers through Bilbo's hair as he lay curled beside her. Her nerves were humming and the motion soothed her as much as her brother.

Nori twitched in his sleep on her other side and Brie glanced down at him. Now that she had a moment to breathe and to think, Brie realized that her sticky-fingered friend had been uncharacteristically… well, _clingy_ was the only word she could think to describe it. Ever since she had woken up at the foot of the Carrock, he had barely let her out of his sight. He'd been clinging to Dori and Ori too, far more than usual, but that made sense. He had nearly lost them, after all.

… _thought I lost everything…_

And what exactly had he meant by that?

Nori twitched again, more violently this time, and Ori stirred uneasily beside him, causing Dori to tighten his hold around the younger Ri's middle in his sleep. Brie reached out instinctively, placing a hand on Nori's furrowed brow and gently brushing a lock of hair from his face. She'd never seen him so disheveled before, his graying auburn hair coming out of his elaborate style in tufts, and she tried to smooth bits of it back into place as best she could, humming absently to herself. At the sound of her voice, the crease in Nori's brow lessened just a little. She smiled and softly began to sing.

 _"My gentle harp, once more I waken_

 _The sweetness of thy slumb'ring strain_

 _In tears our last farewell was taken_

 _And nos in tears we meet again._

 _Yet e'en then, while peace was singing,_

 _Her halcyon song o'er land and sea,_

 _Though joy and hope to others bringing,_

 _She only brought new tears to thee."_

 _"Then who can ask for notes of pleasure,_

 _My drooping harp, from chords like thine?_

 _Alas, the lark's gay morning measure_

 _As ill would suit the swan's decline._

 _Or how shall I, who love, who bless thee,_

 _Invoke thy breath for freedom's strains,_

 _When e'en the wreaths in which I dress thee,_

 _Are sadly mixed, half flowers, half chains."_

As she sang, Nori's whole body relaxed, his face smoothed into a soft expression, and he sighed in his sleep. Brie leaned her head back against the wall, content to card her hand gently through the dwarf's hair, humming softly in the quiet night.

She was somewhere between waking and dreaming when she heard a hinge creak. Her broken humming ceased and she managed to pull her eyes open a bit. An enormous silhouette stood in the open doorway, and Brie thought for a moment that she should be afraid. But then door closed, the silhouette disappeared, and she thought that surely she must be dreaming. Sleep was tugging at her gently and Brie let herself drift away again.

* * *

 **Khuzdul Translations:**

 _mim givasha_ \- little treasure

 _mimelhekhinh_ \- little queen


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N:** So, given the tone of the most recent reviews, I feel I should offer some words of reassurance to you all: I solemnly swear, this is indeed a Brie/Thorin fic. I know it's taking a long time to develop (and will take even longer, if my original plot ideas play out as I've imagined them), but I hope you will have patience with me. I promise to do everything in my power to make it worth your while. And to those of you who have expressed concerns about Nori, please don't fear! As mentioned in an earlier chapter, Brie is most _definitely_ not Nori's type, romantically. Nori's type… will become far more apparent the further into this fic we progress, I can assure you. He does care about Brie, quite a lot, and that may come across as flirting, but that's just Nori's personality, as I've imagined him. He's the flirty friend ;P He's also just been through a pretty traumatic experience, even more so than the other dwarves. He nearly had to watch his entire family fall to their deaths. That's enough to make anyone cling to the people you care about, in my opinion :)

Anyway, thank you for all the reviews, I hope this helps settle any unease that may have come up recently. I promise, I'm doing all of these things for a reason! :)

* * *

 **Chapter Fourteen**

Brie woke to the gentle light of dawn and the not-so-gentle snores of dwarves and had to blink several times before she remembered where she was.

Oh. Right. The home of a morally ambiguous, shape-changing bear, who might or might not eat them. Of course.

She stretched her neck (which was quite sore from having slept sitting up) and carefully disentangled herself from her brother, who had turned in the night and somehow ended up practically sleeping in her lap. She stood, stretched up onto her fuzzy toes, and surveyed the gathered company around her, all still quite soundly asleep. Nori and his brothers were still clustered close by, the other dwarves scattered in small groups around them, and she spotted Thorin leaning in a corner, Fili and Kili curled up on either side of him. Brie took special note of the dwarf king's bandaged right ankle. Probably sprained then, though when he might have sprained it she'd never know. She would need to speak to Oin to be certain, but she anticipated several weeks for the ankle to fully heal. If Gandalf managed to convince this skin-changer to let them live, they might be here for a while.

Where was the wizard anyway? She narrowed her eyes and turned in slow circle, but there was no sign of the gray menace anywhere. Brie mustered her nerve and marched out into the great hall, arms crossed in stubborn determination, prepared to scour the whole house if necessary...

She rounded the corner and stopped dead in her tracks. A man. There was... a huge, black-bearded, _wild_ looking man sitting at the long table. And he was _grinning_ at her.

"Ah!" he boomed, in a voice just as large as his stature, "Good morning, Little Cricket! I had wondered when you might wake."

Brie stared for a moment, dumbfounded.

"Good... Good morning," she stuttered finally.

"Briallen!" Gandalf said, waving cheerily at her. Brie hadn't even noticed him, so commanding was the presence of the enormous man seated across from him, "Come and sit down, my dear! I was just telling our host about the marvelous adventure that has brought us to his doorstep. Beorn, may I introduce Briallen Baggins, one of my lovely traveling companions."

"Lovely indeed," the man, Beorn, said, his grin widening, "A face as pretty by morning as her song in the nighttime."

Brie opened and closed her mouth a few times like a suffocating trout, but words were slow in coming to her. This... _This_ was their host? The shape-changing bear of uncertain scruples who might, at any point, decide to eat them? But... he was so... so... _nice..._

Brie finally managed a small bob of a curtsy that only wavered a moment and her voice came back to her, though it was little more than a whisper.

"Thank you, sir, you are too kind."

She liked to think her father would have been very proud of her in that moment.

Beorn gestured toward the table, and Brie attempted to scramble onto a bench that was almost as tall as she was. In the end, Gandalf had to give her a hand up before she was properly seated.

"Little Cricket must be hungry, yes?" Beorn asked, that delighted grin still plastered to his face.

Without waiting for an answer, he made a gesture and after only a moment something furry bumped Brie's elbow.

"Oh!" she squeaked and looked down...

...into the large brown eyes of an enormous sheep. It was big enough that Brie felt confident she could have ridden the creature like a pony.

"Oh," she said again, feeling thoroughly dazed, "Hello."

The sheep quirked its head to the side and bleated, as if in answer. Then it turned and took a plate of cakes drizzled in honey from its back (that honestly Brie had not even noticed, so confused was she by the very presence of the sheep and the unusual turn her morning had taken) and held it out to her, clasped delicately in its teeth. With hands that only trembled slightly, Brie took the offered plate.

"Thank you," she said automatically before she remembered she was talking to a sheep.

Again, the animal bleated as if in answer before trotting away.

"She likes you," Beorn said, setting a large mug in front of Brie and filling it with milk from the metal pitcher in his hand, "My friends have good judgment. I trust them."

Brie smiled and dragged the mug closer to her, managing to take a sip without too much mishap. The milk was sweet and fresh and reminded Brie of home. A contented sigh escaped her and Beorn smiled.

"Good, Little Cricket, yes? You have the look of one who appreciates the bounties of the land."

Brie nodded, her smile widening despite herself.

"It is good. Thank you."

"Now, Briallen, perhaps you can help fill in some of the details concerning the incident with the trolls..." Gandalf said.

"Trolls?" Beorn said, his interest clearly piqued, "Surely such a little thing as you hasn't faced such creatures as that!"

"And more besides!" Brie said, "It has been quite an adventure, Mr. Beorn, as Gandalf said."

So Brie helped Gandalf tell their tale, as much as she was able when she wasn't stuffing her face with the delicious honey cakes piled on the plate in front of her. Beorn, seeing how much she enjoyed them, told her about the beehives he kept in the surrounding fields and the flowers growing all around that fed them. Brie didn't remember seeing any of that last night (she had been in a bit of a rush after all), but now she looked forward to seeing the land that surrounded the house in daylight.

"Sweet...?"

The new voice interrupted Gandalf just as he was getting their tale back on track. Nori stood in the open archway, his eyes flitting between Brie and Beorn, his right hand twitching dangerously close to his jacket pocket.

"You alright?" the dwarf asked, "Woke up, saw you were missing..."

Brie felt a sudden overwhelming fondness for the dwarf. He was worried. He was worried about _her_.

"I'm perfectly alright, Nori," she assured him gently, "This is Beorn, our host. Mr. Beorn, this is my friend Nori, he's traveling with us."

Nori's eyes had widened a bit and flicked to the large shape-changer in question before coming back to rest on hers again, questioningly. She gave him a small shake of her head, and then made a show of wiping imaginary dust from the bench beside her.

"Come and sit down, Nori," she said, in tone that (she hoped) brooked no argument, "You can help us tell about the Stone Giants!"

"Stone Giants?" Beorn said, distracted from the dwarf's presence for a moment, "And I thought the trolls were fearsome enough."

"Oh you haven't heard the half of it!" Brie exclaimed and they were off again.

Slowly the other dwarves began to wake and make appearances, but Brie found that she took to the role of proper hostess (an art in which she had never been particularly well practiced) with much more enthusiasm than she ever had in her own home under the hill. She managed introductions, offered the dwarves breakfast of honey cakes and fresh milk, and then the tale would resume without incident or delay, Beorn so entrenched in their adventure that he hardly seemed to notice the amount of dwarves that had surrounded his table.

Bilbo was one of the last to wake, stumbling in and rubbing his eyes sleepily.

"Good morning, Bilbo!" Brie exclaimed brightly, waving at her brother, who looked up and immediately froze like a wild animal, "Bilbo, this is our host, Beorn; Mr. Beorn, this is my brother, Bilbo! You're just in time, we're about to tell our escape from the goblins!"

Bilbo shuffled over to the table in a daze, accepting a hand up from Bofur, and Brie shoved a plate of honey cakes across to him.

"You've got to try them, they're _divine,_ " she said, turning back to Beorn, "I fully intend to wrangle the recipe out of you, Mister Beorn, and take it home to the Shire with me."

The skin-changer gave her a pleased grin.

"Sharing this with one such of you, Little Cricket, would bring me nothing but pleasure," he said, "But now, these goblins that captured you in the mountains..."

"Aye, surrounded on all sides we were!" Dwalin declared, seemingly unaware of the honey that had drizzled down into his beard.

Brie allowed the dwarves to take up the tale for a few moments and counted heads. They were still one dwarf short.

"Where's Thorin?" she whispered, leaning into Nori's side.

Nori glanced around the table and shrugged.

"Might still be asleep," he said, "Think Oin had to give him a sleeping draught to keep him down last night."

"Oh dear," Brie muttered, her eyes straying nervously to the archway that led to the back room, "Do you think someone should...?"

But there was no need, for at that very moment the dwarf king appeared, folded his arms, and leaned in the archway, surveying the group at the table with a piercing gaze. Brie narrowed her eyes. Now really, that was _quite_ unfair. He didn't even look _tousled_ , for goodness sake!

Bilbo was talking now, and no one but Brie seemed to have even noticed Thorin's appearance.

"...and Brie tried to go back into the goblin caves after me, but-"

"But there was no need!" Brie interrupted in a panicked rush.

All eyes turned to her, including Thorin's.

"Because..." She stuttered as Thorin's gaze narrowed and Brie tried to catch her breath, "...well... well because he was already there, of course. We'd just missed him, you see, in... in the rush to escape, but he'd already found us, so really, I got all worked up for nothing, and... _Oin_ dear, do you really think Thorin should be standing on that ankle?"

This effectively shifted the attention from Brie to the king, who was soon accosted by the healer and both his nephews and led with all care and delicacy (which he didn't seem grateful for at all) to a seat on one of the benches. Brie took a sip of her milk to compose herself, and caught Nori giving her the strangest smile she had ever seen.

"What?" she asked.

Nori shrugged.

"Maybe nothing," he said, picking up his mug and throwing her a twinkling smirk, "Maybe _something_."

Brie narrowed her eyes, but had no time to indulge him. Beorn was eying the newest addition to his table with a decided mistrust.

"Mister Beorn, may I present the leader of our Company, Thorin Oakenshield," Brie said, with no small amount of trepidation, "Thorin, this is Beorn, our gracious host."

Thorin inclined his head to the shape-shifter.

"My thanks to you for the hospitality you have shown to my kin and company," he said, "I hope that we might be able to someday repay your kindness."

Brie blinked. That had been... _shockingly_ courteous. Almost _diplomatic_. Brie hadn't thought Thorin had a single diplomatic bone in his body. She'd been beginning to think that was why he kept Balin so close.

Beorn returned the nod, though a bit more reluctantly.

"Your company have been quite entertaining guests, telling tales of the quest which takes you far and wide across the wilds."

"Oh, we haven't even gotten to the best part yet!" Kili cried, his eyes shining, "Wait until you hear about how Brie ripped open Azog's face!"

"Kili!" Brie squeaked, her face suddenly flaming, "That is _hardly_ appropriate breakfast conversation!"

But it was too late. Beorn's eyes were blazing at her with a mixture of horror and fury.

"You were met by Azog the Defiler, Little Cricket?"

His voice was hoarse with emotion and Brie slunk down lower on the bench, wishing she could just slide off completely and hide under the table. She really didn't want to talk about it.

"You know Azog?" Bilbo asked, "How?"

Beorn favored her brother with a glance, which gave Brie some time to recover herself. How was she going to spin this story so it didn't sound as if she were the biggest fool in Middle-Earth? Which she _was_ , of course, but she didn't want it to _sound_ like it!

"My people were the first to live in the mountains," Beorn said, "Before the orcs came down from the North. The Defiler killed most of my family, but some he enslaved."

The shape-changer touched his wrist almost involuntarily and Brie saw marks that she hadn't noticed before, deep scars around his hands.

"Not for work, you understand," he said, dropping his hands as if remembering himself, "But for sport. Caging skin-changers and torturing them seemed to amuse him."

"That sounds _quite_ like him," Brie spit, a well of rage flaring up in her.

She thought of Thorin's lost father and for a moment she wondered if Azog had tortured him too. She didn't hold on to the thought for long.

Unfortunately, her outburst drew Beorn's attention back to her. He narrowed his eyes and glared at the table of dwarves.

"I know Azog the Defiler well enough," he growled, fixing each dwarf with his withering gaze, "Who would _dare_ leave this precious child of the earth to fend for herself before such filth? Where were _you_?"

Brie felt Nori flinch beside her and that simply wouldn't do. She slipped her arm through his and tugged him close, as he had done so many times for her, a gesture of protection.

"It wasn't their fault," she insisted, dragging Beorn's gaze back to her, "It wasn't. We were surrounded, they did everything that they could. I was the one who jumped on Azog and, really, I didn't have a choice, he would have killed..."

Her mouth snapped shut so suddenly that her teeth clicked. She swallowed and dropped her eyes.

"Who, Little Cricket?" Beorn's voice rumbled, not unkindly, "Whose life did you weigh in the balance and deem more valuable than your own?"

"I... I didn't..." Brie stammered, trying to think of some way to back all of them out of this corner they had managed to...

"It was mine."

Thorin's quiet words made Brie flinch.

"You, Oakenshield?" Beorn growled.

Thorin's eyes were fixed on the plate in front of him and he did not look up.

"I was a fool," he said, his voice low, "I was a fool and I should have died a fool's death. Brial..."

His breath hitched.

" _Miss Baggins_ ," he pointedly corrected, "Saved my life."

The silence in the house could not have been more complete. Brie wished again that she could just disappear under the table, but her grip on Nori's arm kept her quite firmly anchored where she was.

"I have thus far trusted your judgment, Little Cricket," Beorn said, his glare still fixed on the dwarf king, who had yet to lift his head, "But it pains me to think that your songs might be silenced, for the sake of a _dwarf_."

Before Brie could reply (quite indignantly in fact, because she happened to _like_ these particular dwarves!), Thorin answered.

"It pains no one so much as it pains me."

"Oh, for goodness sake, would you please just _stop_ talking, you are _no_ help at all!"

Everyone stared at Brie. Oh. She'd just said that aloud. Excellent.

"Briallen is right," Gandalf said, though a bit more civil toned, "Assigning blame and shouldering guilt does nothing for anyone. We are alive, all of us. That is what matters now."

"But hunted, and injured as well it seems," Beorn said, "I imagine you seek refuge from those who would do you more harm?"

"Just until our wounds are healed," Gandalf said pleasantly, "And then we'll be on our way. We've not much time, the end of summer is upon us."

Beorn seemed to consider this for a moment, sweeping his eyes over the dwarves at the table.

"I don't like dwarves," he declared, "They are greedy and blind, blind to the lives of those they deem lesser than their own."

His eyes fell on Thorin for a moment. The king bowed his head and said nothing. Brie _wanted_ to say something quite sharp, but Gandalf put a hand on her arm and gave her a quick shake of his head. She remained silent.

Beorn's eyes slowly swept the room again, this time falling on Brie.

"However," he said, his expression softening, "Long has it been since sweet songs and music were heard in this house. Your look and manners delight me by day as your song charmed me by night, Little Cricket. For your sake, I will grant your companions refuge for a little while. And perhaps I will hear your songs again."

"Every night, Mister Beorn, if it pleases you," Brie said breathlessly, her stomach dropping with relief of a tension she had not even realized she'd been holding.

The skin-changer nodded and rose.

"Rest, eat, tend to your wounds. None shall trouble you here."

And then he was gone, the dwarves all staring after him. Well, all but Nori, who nudged Brie with his elbow.

"Is that another particular talent of hobbits?" he asked jovially, "Charmin' the trousers off every creature within a hundred leagues 'til they melt like butter in your hand?"

Brie felt a blush creeping up her neck and reached for her milk.

"I've no idea what you're talking about," she muttered, before taking a gulp.

* * *

At Brie's inquiries, Oin confirmed that Thorin's ankle was indeed sprained and several of his ribs appeared to be cracked. How the king had managed all those days of running was beyond both her and the healer's comprehension, but Oin also told her that dwarves were fast healers, much faster than Brie had anticipated. He believed it would take about two weeks for Thorin to be ready to travel.

Thorin was furious. He ranted, and fumed, and Brie was certain that he would have thrown something if anything satisfactory had been on hand. Oin stood steady before the wrath of his king and let him continue for a good long while. It was actually Brie who lost her patience first, after about the third proclamation of ' _I am KING!'_

"King you may be, Thorin Oakenshield, but you are not _my_ king!" Brie shouted, stepping in front of Oin and scowling down at the injured dwarf, "And quite frankly, I am sick to _death_ of your incessant noise! If you refuse to remain quiet until you are healed, than we will simply keep you drugged until we are ready to depart."

At that Brie spun on her heel and marched off, gathering up a shocked and silent Bilbo from the archway.

"Come along, Bilbo, I want to see the beehives."

She thought she heard a muttered phrase behind her, something along the lines of "who's in charge of this blasted quest anyway?", but she really was too far to hear it clearly, and besides, she had gotten her point across. They weren't leaving any time soon, and Thorin would have time to get used to the idea if he was left alone to brood about it for a moment, she was sure.

So she and Bilbo spent a pleasant morning together, first observing the enormous hives Beorn had scattered through out the fields surrounding his home, and then engaged in the discovery and naming of the many flowers that fed the huge bees (almost as big as a hobbit hand).

A few of the flowers were varieties that neither hobbit had ever seen before, but most they knew well from their garden at Bag End or from their floral education in the Shire. They even found some gillyflowers and spent several contented hours practicing their disused flower crown skills. It had been several years since Brie had felt any desire to weave a flower crown, the act bringing to mind memories of those that had wilted away on her garden gate over the years, symbols of dreams that had faded with her youth.

But now, sitting with her brother in the sunshine, weaving together tokens of their affection, she could feel nothing but happiness and contentment. Maybe Gandalf was right. They were alive, and that was all that really mattered. She plopped her finished crown onto her brother's head and laughed when it slipped to the side, covering one eye. Bilbo gave her a pleased grin and gently placed his own crown (much more carefully constructed) in her own curls.

"I think Thorin has had enough time to compose himself," Brie announced, getting up and pulling Bilbo to his feet, "And I fear we've missed elevensies, we'll have to make due with luncheon."

"Oh, I can't remember the last time we had elevensies..." Bilbo sighed wistfully, "What I wouldn't give for a few of your delightful little cheese muffins..."

On their way back into the house, a spot of yellow caught Brie's eye, bringing her up short. She pushed aside the tall grasses to get a better look at the huge flowers. Then she grinned.

* * *

A few moments later, Briallen Baggins presented Thorin Oakenshield with a cluster of five large yellow blooms.

"For you, your majesty," she announced, holding them out to the (still sulking) dwarf.

He looked at the flowers, then looked at her, an eyebrow raised skeptically.

"Whatever for?" he asked, "Are they medicinal? Or do you plan to fashion them into some sort of head-wear, like that which now rests on your own brow?"

Brie rolled her eyes. _Honestly_ , as if she would ever even _consider_ weaving him a...

"Don't be ridiculous," she snapped, "These are neither medicinal, nor proper makings for a flower crown."

"Then what are they for?" Thorin asked.

Brie sighed. Was she really going to have to spell it out? From the look on the dwarf king's face, yes. Yes she was.

"They are a _message_ , oh King Under the Mountain," she said, "While we hobbits do not have a language of our own, per se, we have assigned meanings to many of the flowers and plants that are familiar to us. Sometimes we use them to send messages to those we..."

She stumbled. She didn't want to give him the wrong impression, using the phrase 'those we care about.' She did care about the dwarf, she had saved his miserable life after all, but still... when had this all gotten so ridiculously _involved_? She'd meant it as a _joke,_ for goodness sake!

"The point is," she said, thrusting the flowers back toward the still perplexed dwarf, "These are called ox eye and they are meant to convey a very specific message."

"And what message," Thorin growled, smirking slightly, "would that be?"

Brie raised an imperious eyebrow and let a smirk of her own twitch her lips.

"Patience."

If Brie was entirely honest with herself, the glower that fell over his majestic features was extremely satisfactory and quite worth the trouble of explaining flower lore. Before Thorin had managed to form a reply, Brie dropped the flowers into his lap and whirled away, marching happily toward the smell of freshly baked cakes and the pleasant sound of hobbit and dwarven conversation.

* * *

 **A/N:** So, I hope you guys aren't too angry at me for cutting the chapter here :) I thought it was a cute place to break. I promise we will get more in depth with hobbit flower language and the many uses of flower crowns (including why Brie has such bitter memories of them) in later chapters. Speaking of later chapters, this will probably be the last update you'll have from me for about a month, at least. November is National Novel Writing Month, which means I will be spending most of my focus and energy on my original novel. Thank you guys for your patience with me during this time, and thank you again for all the kind words and reviews you've all sent me, I really do appreciate them!


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N:** I'm back! :D Thank you guys so much for your patience last month, I greatly appreciate it, and I can report that NaNoWriMo was indeed fruitful! I have a finished first draft of a great novel that I'm hoping to edit and publish in the next year! It's really exciting :) But enough about that, back to the story at hand!

* * *

 **Chapter Fifteen**

It seemed Brie was not the only hobbit to have discovered the sad lack of floral intelligence in their dwarven companions. Bilbo was sitting at Beorn's enormous table, his gillyflower crown still perched upon his head, deeply entrenched in a lecture on the workings of flower lore, Ori at one elbow taking careful notes, Bofur at the other end of the table whittling diligently and trying not to seem interested (though he was failing rather spectacularly), with Dwalin and Balin sitting across. Brie accepted a hand up from Dwalin as she scrambled onto the bench, and reached for the plate of honey cakes.

"The crowns work, well, sort of like braiding does for dwarves, if I understand it correctly," Bilbo was saying, "Family members will weave them for each other sometimes, and of course you can weave one for yourself, though that's considered, well, rather desperate really. Mostly they're used in courting."

Brie flinched a tiny bit, but tried to give no other outward signs that anything might be amiss. Dwalin noticed her twinge, but only favored her with a passing glance before his eyes returned to her brother.

"So they're offered as courting gifts?" Ori asked, his pen scratching away dutifully.

"Oh no, that comes later, after the suit has been accepted," Bilbo corrected, "Generally, you weave a crown for the one you wish to court and hang it on their front gate, or somewhere close by the door, where the intended recipient is sure to see it. Then you wait. If the crown, and your suit, is deemed acceptable, the recipient will put it on and official courting will commence. If the other person wants to think on it for a while, they may take the flower crown inside and emerge once they've decided, either wearing the crown for acceptance, or not for rejection. If the intended recipient sees the offer and chooses to leave it hanging on the gate... well..."

"Outright rejection," Brie provided, in a tone that was just a touch harsher than she'd perhaps intended, "It means the party isn't interested."

Everyone turned to look at her. Brie stuffed her face with another honey cake to prevent any further words from escaping.

"So, are there particular flowers for different occasions or do you just choose whichever you like best?" Ori asked, turning back to his scribbling with barely a pause (Green Mother bless his academic little heart).

"Oh no, the flowers you pick are _extremely_ important!" Bilbo exclaimed, "You wouldn't want any hurt feelings or to give anyone the wrong idea."

"Wrong idea?" Dwalin said incredulously, "They're plants. What sort of ideas would they be spreading around?"

Brie groaned and pressed the heel of her palm (the one not sticky with honey) to her brow.

"Honestly," she muttered, "Dwarves!"

Again, everyone looked at her interestedly. Brie rolled her eyes.

"Every other race has a language to call its own," she said, pointing at Dwalin in particular, "You, I hear you all the time, muttering under your breath in that strange guttural tongue, whatever it is…"

"Khuzdul," Balin said helpfully, though he appeared to be glaring at his brother, "It is called Khuzdul. And we're not supposed to use it among strangers."

Dwalin plucked another cake from the plate in front of him and managed to look not even the least bit apologetic.

"Right, well, besides that," Brie said, "The elves have plenty of languages, and even the thrice cursed orcs apparently are able to curse us in a tongue of their own, but everyone always acts so surprised when hobbits happen to have a communication method that's entirely ours. It's as if you've never heard of the concept before!"

"But they're _plants_ ," Dwalin said stubbornly and Brie whirled on him.

" _Lavender,"_ she said pointedly, and Dwalin cringed, but opened a hand to her, conceding the point.

Ori was practically bouncing at the idea that there was an entirely new language for him to document.

"I can start a dictionary!" he said, turning a page and scribbling at the top, "We can start with the local flora, and then whatever else I can draw up, and…"

"Ori!" Balin said, sounding scandalized, "A little respect, if you please! Mr. and Miss Baggins have already been quite generous with the secrets of their people, perhaps we should…"

"Oh, I don't mind," Bilbo assured him quickly, "It's not really a secret, it's just that no one really takes an interest in… well, hobbit-lore."

"And once we return to Bag End I shall be sure to dig up my copy of our flower dictionary for you," Brie told Ori, "I imagine I won't be getting much use out of it anymore, someone might as well."

She tried not to sound bitter, but Dwalin gave her another passing glance that caused her to stuff her face with another honey cake to occupy her mouth with something useful. Balin only made a ' _hm_ '-noise that didn't sound terribly convinced, but as there didn't seem to be much left to protest, he let the matter drop. With that, Bilbo and Ori took off for the garden to catch some of the last rays of light (Balin and Bofur following in their wake), just as Fili, Kili, and Nori were all coming inside.

"Where in the world have you lot been?" Brie asked, grateful for any change in subject.

"Outside, gathering supplies!" Kili answered, indicating a bag full of feathers and his brother's armful of sticks, "There are the most enormous geese out there, did you know?"

Without waiting for a reply, the princling brothers trooped into the great hall bearing their prizes. What they planned to do with sticks and geese feathers Brie had no idea and, quite frankly, she didn't think she wanted to. She turned instead to Nori, who had hoisted himself up to sit on her other side.

"And you?" she asked, sliding him a plate of cakes and a mug of milk, "What have you been getting up to?"

"Oh, you know, this and that," he replied, with a twinkle in his eye as he reached for the offered cakes. Brie jerked them back out of his grasp.

 _"This_ and _that_?" she asked suspiciously, "What does that mean exactly?"

"Well it means what I said, a little bit of _this_ , a little bit of _that_ , nothing too terribly exciting…" He reached for the cakes again, but Brie slid them even further out of reach.

"You've been casing the house haven't you?" she asked, resignedly, "What did you steal?"

Nori's eyes widened in what appeared to be genuine distress.

"I didn't steal anything! Honest!"

Dwalin snorted.

"Believe it when the sun rises in the west," he muttered, plucking one of the honey cakes off the plate Brie had unintentionally slid in front of him.

Nori's eyes flicked over Brie's shoulder and he smirked at the other dwarf.

"You give me too much credit, guardsman," he said, "Power over the movements of the heavens? I didn't know you thought so very highly of me."

Dwalin choked on his milk.

"And for your information," Nori continued, while Dwalin was coughing and sputtering, "I do actually _value_ my life. We are at the mercy of a person who, while frightening in his own right, also changes into an enormous bear that could eat me as a midnight snack. I see nothing in this house worth that kind of a risk."

"But you do admit you _thought_ about it," Brie said, disapprovingly.

Nori raised one braided eyebrow at her.

"Of course I did, sweet. I'm a thief. But I am not a _stupid_ thief, and I'd rather prefer not to be a _dead_ thief. Although..."

He dug in his jacket pocket and produced a cluster of deep purple flowers with a grinning flourish.

"I did happen to find the garden while I was out," he said, handing the flowers to her, "Thought you might like these."

Brie swallowed hard and took the flowers from his hand. She knew the pretty little blooms on the stalk well. Hydrangea. She took a breath and managed to smile at Nori.

"They're beautiful," she said, "Thank you."

"What do those mean?" Dwalin rumbled over her shoulder.

"It doesn't matter," she answered quickly, looking anxiously about her person for a place to tuck the flowers away.

"So it's bad then," Dwalin said, sounding entirely too satisfied with himself.

" _Mean_?" Nori asked, confused, "What do you mean, 'What do those _mean_?'"

"Should have come in earlier, thief," Dwalin answered, "Would have got an education in hobbit flower language, you wouldn't believe. Never thought such little things could be so complicated."

"Flower language?" Nori asked, reaching across the table and finally managing to nab one of the honey cakes off the plate in front of Dwalin, "Well, it can't be _that_ bad. They're flowers, what could they possibly say?"

"That's what I said," Dwalin answered, nudging Brie gently, "Come on, lass, let's hear it. What did the thief bring you?"

"I told you, it doesn't matter," Brie said stubbornly, reaching for another cake with what she hoped wasn't a forced smile.

Dwalin didn't buy it and she suddenly found that the plate had been moved out of _her_ reach this time. She glared up at the big dwarf, but it didn't move him.

"Fine," she huffed, picking up the flowers again, "These are called hydrangea, and they mean heartlessness. You think the recipient to be cold and uncaring. They're often given out of spite by bitter suitors who've been rejected."

There was a long moment of silence. Brie didn't dare look at either dwarf, twirling the stem of flowers in her fingers to keep it from becoming too obvious that she was trembling. How many times had she woken to find clusters of hydrangea on her doorstep? She'd lost count. No one ever understood… How could they? After all, they had never lost anyone, not like she and Bilbo had. Not like their father...

The flowers were pretty at any rate.

The honey cakes had somehow found their way in front of her again, but Brie wasn't very hungry anymore.

"I'm just going to call in Ori and Bilbo," she said, hopping down off the bench, "It's getting dark and I've a feeling that if left to their own devices they might not even notice. They can add these to Ori's dictionary while they're at it," she added, waving the flowers in the air.

"Aye, I'd better check on his royal highness," Dwalin said, in what might have been a rather lame attempt at sarcastic wit, "Make sure he's not exacerbating his injuries or harassing Oin beyond his capacity for rational thought."

Dwalin slid away from the table and headed off in the direction of the great hall. Nori didn't move. He sat on the bench, shoulders hunched, staring determinedly at the plate of honey cakes in front of him, spinning it absently on the table top. Brie sighed and put a hand on his elbow.

"Please don't fret, Nori," she said softly, "The language is… it's complicated, but I like to think it's more about the intent than the literal translation. Just… that you thought of me at all means the world, truly."

Nori nodded, but his expression hardly changed. Brie felt a gnawing sense of disappointment. Why couldn't they have just left well enough alone? But there was no helping it now. She gave Nori's arm one last reassuring squeeze, and then left him to himself.

She found Ori and Bilbo sitting amongst a patch of daisies ( _innocence_ she thought and it made her smile), Bilbo twirling his fingers in enthusiasm as Ori dutifully took down all that was said. She put her hand on her brother's shoulder and he looked up, smiling.

"Oh," he said, looking about him as if in a daze, "Dear me, it is getting quite late isn't it?"

He stood to his feet, brushing away the grass from his trousers, and it was only then that he noticed the stem of flowers hanging from Brie's fingers. His expression darkened into a scowl, but before he could speak Brie squeezed his shoulder and smiled.

"No one meant anything by it," she whispered, "I promise."

Bilbo nodded, but he plucked the flowers firmly from her hand and gave them to Ori.

"Here, put these in your book."

As he explained the name and the meaning of the flowers, Bilbo put an arm around her shoulders, pulling her tightly into his side, and they all walked back into the house together.

* * *

Beorn and Gandalf came in just as the sun was disappearing over the horizon and they had a feast for supper: more cakes and mead and fresh vegetables and fruits (which the dwarves again grumbled about, but neither of the hobbits were complaining). Afterward they gathered around Beorn's large hearth and the skin-changer asked Brie for a song. She had prepared for this, putting her thought to it as she and Bilbo had wandered the fields that day, and she began a merry little tune while Dwalin braided the gillyflowers from her crown into her hair by the firelight.

 _"The violet and the primrose too_

 _Beneath a sheltering thorny bough_

 _In bright and lively colours blow_

 _And cast sweet fragrance round._

 _Where beds of thyme in clusters lay_

 _The heath rose opens its eyes in May_

 _And cowslips, too, their sweets display_

 _Upon the heathy ground._

 _"Here shepherds meet at close of day_

 _To chant their merry roundelay_

 _And chase unhappy thought away_

 _No discord here is found._

 _Harmonious notes make mountains ring_

 _When minstrels strike the trembling string_

 _And merry shepherds dance and sing_

 _Upon the heathy ground_ _!_ _"_

The dwarves voices rose up in a rousing cheer when she had finished, and Beorn looked thoroughly pleased.

"Well sung, Little Cricket, well sung," he said, standing and stretching to his full height, "And now I will leave you for the night. Please stay inside, you and your companions, until I return. There are fierce and fearsome things that roam these lands, not least of which is me."

He smiled toothily at them and made his exit, leaving the company to exchange uneasy glances.

"Well," Bofur said, from the other side of Bilbo, "That was... unpleasant."

"Think we might need that song again, lass," Dwalin rumbled, "Dispel the air and all that."

"I quite agree, Mr. Dwalin," Brie said scanning the room until she found Nori all by himself in a corner, looking moody, "Nori, will you help me? You've a much better ear than Bilbo."

"Oy!"

Brie ignored Bilbo's squeak of protest, smiling as Nori jerked upright at the sound of his name. She could see him mulling the thing over and she held out her hand to him, careful not to disturb Dwalin's work on her hair.

"Please?"

After another uncertain moment, Nori sighed dramatically and rose from his spot in the dark to settle in beside her.

"Aye, sweet, whatever did you do before I came along?" he asked, a hint of twinkle returning to his hazel eyes. Brie smiled brightly at him.

"I'm afraid I can't recall, Mr. Nori," she said, pressing one of her small hands over his, "But I'm very glad I've no need to remember it."

Together, they began to work through the song again, Nori's tenor finding the perfect harmonies, and then Bofur pulled his tin flute out of his pocket to work up a quick accompaniment, and within an hour the three of them had turned the little ditty into a proper dancing tune. It took a few tries, but Fili and Kili even convinced Brie and Bilbo to teach them a hobbit dance, all spinning and twirling and changing of hands, but the dwarf princes only managed to get their feet tangled under them and down they all went in a heap of laughter. It reminded Brie of everything she loved about home, and it made her simultaneously happy and homesick.

The fire slowly burned down to coals and the dwarves began to turn in for the evening, but Brie sat a little while longer by the hearth, letting the emotions of the day (and the last fuzziness from the mead) ebb out of her bit by bit.

"The flowers in your hair..." Brie jumped at the sound of Thorin's voice from the shadows on the opposite side of the hearth, "...what do they mean?"

The dwarf sat just inside the firelight, wrapped in his cloak and watching her with an unreadable expression. He'd been silent all evening, silent and brooding despite the merry-making all around him. Brie touched one of the rapidly wilting gillyflowers Dwalin had managed to weave into a multi-stranded braid down her back.

"Bonds of affection," she said softly, "Bilbo and I have taken them up as our flower, ever since we were children."

Thorin nodded and turned back to the fire. Brie guessed that was the end of the discussion. She sighed and stood, realizing quite unexpectedly that they were the only two left in the great room.

"Well, I'm off to bed," she said.

Thorin nodded again, never taking his eyes from the glowing coals. Brie shook her head as she turned away.

"Goodnight, Thorin," she said, tossing the words over her shoulder with not much hope of a response.

But just before she passed under the archway, she heard him rumble, "Sleep well, Miss Baggins."

* * *

It was still dark when Brie came slowly awake in a series of rapid blinks. She wasn't sure exactly why, but she had the terrible feeling that there was something… amiss. She reached a hand into the darkness and her fingers came into contact with dwarven hair. Nori, right where she'd left him, curled up just within reach. He stirred at her touch and she smoothed a tuft of his hair back into place to sooth him.

 _Bilbo..._

She had been sleeping back to back with her brother, but now his warmth was absent. She sat up and rubbed her eyes, searching the shadows for her missing brother. He wasn't too far away, curled in on himself, and she could see something twirling through his fingers in the dim moonlight that filtered down from the high windows of Beorn's house.

"What is it?" Brie whispered sleepily.

Bilbo jumped and shoved the bit of gold back in his vest pocket.

"Nothing."

Brie gave him a skeptical look, her mind coming more fully awake with each passing moment.

"Bilbo…?"

He hesitated, fiddling with a bit of straw. Then he sighed and finally rolled over to face her.

"It's a ring," he said, pulling it out of his pocket and holding it between his fingers, "Just a little gold ring."

The bauble caught the light and gleamed, but it seemed perfectly ordinary to Brie. She couldn't imagine why he would want to hide it.

"Where did you get it?" she asked.

"Under the goblin tunnels," Bilbo whispered, pulling the ring back and running a finger along the smooth outside, "It's how I escaped."

"What do you mean that's how you escaped?"

Bilbo stared at her, long and hard, for a good while. He clenched his jaw.

"It... makes me... invisible."

Brie scoffed and raised an eyebrow at him. He did not laugh. He just stared at her, a perfectly serious look on his face. Brie's own smile disappeared.

"Invisible?" she asked skeptically, "It makes you... invisible?"

Bilbo rolled his eyes.

"Yes, that's what I said, invisible. One minute, right here in front of you, and the next..."

He slipped the ring on his finger and vanished. Brie jumped and gasped.

"...invisible."

Bilbo's voice echoed, sounding hollow and distant without him sitting next to her. Brie stared at the empty space that had contained her brother. Slowly she reached toward the space... and her fingers brushed soft curly hair. She could trace the outline of his face, even tweaked his nose which made him squeak. He tugged the ring off, blinking back into existence.

"Don't do that!" he hissed, rubbing his nose.

Brie smiled widely.

"Oh Bilbo!" she whispered excitedly, "That's extraordinary!"

"Yes, well," Bilbo huffed, slipping the ring back into his pocket, "It'll be useful at any rate, I'm sure."

"Have you told the others?"

"No!" he hissed viciously, then seemed to remember himself, "No, and neither will you. Can you imagine the ruckus that would be made if they knew? We'll just keep it between you and me, and use it when we need to."

Brie thought that actually sounded very wise, come to think of it. The others would want to use the little thing for all and sundry, most likely. Though she would have liked to tell Thorin. He was the leader of the Company after all, he should probably know when such advantages were available to him. Or Gandalf. After all, he was a wizard, magical objects were sort of his area. Still, it couldn't hurt to keep it quiet for now. She could broach the subject of sharing their good fortune another time.

"Right, just between us," she said, lying back down in the straw.

Bilbo snuggled in next to her and sighed.

"...actually glad I told you," he murmured, his words already slurring as he started to drift back toward sleep, "...feels heavy... sometimes..."

Something about the way he said that made Brie uneasy, but his breathing was already slowing and in a moment she knew that he was asleep. She put her arms around him and ran a hand through his curls, then pressed a kiss to his brow.

"Whatever you need, Bilbo," she whispered, feeling sleep reclaiming her as well, "Whatever you need… we'll do it together."

* * *

 **A/N:** Okay, I know this isn't a very long chapter, but I felt like I needed to give you guys _something_ , since I'd been away so long :) And, of course, the holidays are upon us, so I don't know how consistent I'll be in my updating this month, but I'm going to try to get back into some kind of grove at least by January. Stay tuned, and thank you for sticking with me! :)


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N:** So, I know I said it would probably be January before I posted again, but... well, I just couldn't resist :) There's so much good in this chapter! I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

* * *

 **Chapter Sixteen**

The next day dawned just as bright and clear as the day before, only this morning Brie woke to find herself alone. She sat up and stretched, plucking straw and the last of the wilted flowers from her hair as she shuffled out into the dining hall. The breakfast table was deserted except for Bifur, who was sitting at the corner, carving. He glanced up and smiled at her as she clambered onto one of the tall benches and helped herself to a honey cake from the mostly empty plate.

"Where is everyone?" she mumbled around a mouthful.

Bifur muttered something in that strange dwarven language (what had Balin called it? Khuzdul?) and gestured toward the large outer door, which Brie took to mean "outside". She nibbled on her cake and considered for a moment. Bifur did not seem bothered in the slightest, bent over his work and paying her very little mind. He seemed particularly lucid today, which was good. She'd noticed that he tended to… drift, was the best word she had for it. She caught her eye trying to fix on the axe head lodged in his hairline, and forced her gaze away.

He muttered something else and Brie looked back.

"I'm sorry?"

He looked up again and repeated the word, gesturing toward the great room with his knife. Brie still hadn't the slightest idea what it was he had said, but he gave her a meaningful glance before turning back to his work. She supposed that meant whatever was in the great room, it was something he meant her to take a look at. She shoved the rest of the honey cake in her mouth, hopped off the bench, and padded across the stone floor to take a peek.

Thorin sat almost exactly where she had left him last night, though there was nothing but ashes in the hearth now. Brie's brow furrowed as she glanced about the empty room. Thorin had been left inside, alone? That didn't seem right. She wanted the king to recover as much as anyone, but that didn't mean she thought he should be left to brood in his misery all by himself. His shoulders slumped forward as he glared sullenly at his bandaged ankle. He seemed so determined, as if he could mend it more quickly through sheer force of will. She sighed and stepped inside.

"Do you plan to set it alight with that stare?"

Thorin jumped and turned his blazing eyes on her, as if he blamed her entirely for his predicament. She supposed she could allow him that, as it _was_ her fault he had been examined in the first place, but she certainly didn't regret the decision.

"I didn't know there was anyone left inside," he said, obviously trying not to sound bitter and failing, "Isn't there a flower dictionary or some such nonsense that requires your attention?"

She chose to ignore her indignation about the words ' _some such nonsense_ '.

"I just wanted to check on you, make sure you're alright," she said, hopping up to sit on the cold hearth stones and swinging her feet absently, "Do you need anything?"

"If I do I am perfectly capable of fetching it myself," he snapped.

"Well, you'll _never_ heal if you're walking about on it," Brie snapped back.

Thorin scowled again at the bandage, as if the injury had personally offended him.

"No," he growled, reluctantly, "I suppose not."

He sighed and rubbed his face with both hands, his face falling suddenly into an expression of contrition.

"I am sorry," he said, turning his gaze back to the empty hearth, "I'm afraid my company leaves much to be desired. Go. I do not require anything at the moment, and I would not keep you from more pleasant occupations."

Well. She couldn't very well leave him _now_ , after such a courteous, yet despondent apology. And as it was so very rare that he was courteous to her at all, she felt she should take a moment to bask in the novelty. She glanced around the room for something to occupy her mind and spotted a large chessboard in the corner, with pieces so big she was sure it would take both her hands to move them.

"Do you play?" she asked, gesturing to the board.

Thorin stared at her, as if surprised she was still there, before looking in the direction she pointed.

"A bit," he answered, hesitantly, "My sister is the better strategist. I don't think I've won a game in over sixty years."

Brie nodded, looking back down at her swinging toes, "My father taught us. Bilbo has more patience, so he usually wins. I tend to get in too much of a hurry and don't think things through. Of course, we haven't played since..."

She trailed off, then shook her head and smiled.

"So?" she asked.

Thorin looked up, expression blank.

"So...?"

"Let's play."

He stared at her for another moment, flicked his eyes to the chess set, then back to her, indecision on his face. Brie rolled her eyes.

"Oh I'm _so_ sorry, does His Majesty have a previous engagement?"

His eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched, and Brie smirked. She had him.

"I call white!" she exclaimed gleefully, jumping up and scurrying over to the board, scrambling into the carved seat on the side with the lighter colored pieces.

Thorin shook his head, but stood and limped to follow her, "In my family, we flip a coin."

"My idea, my house rules, and in my house, we call dibs," Brie said cheerfully, poking at a giant eagle which seemed to serve as the king. She had been right; it would take two hands to move it, at least with any kind of ease.

Thorin finally reached the board and hoisted himself into the chair opposite her. He smirked and made a sweeping gesture over the pieces.

"After you then, Miss Baggins."

Brie felt a twist of nerves (it really had been several years since she'd properly played), but quickly shoved it away and leaned forward to slide a hedgehog pawn forward two spaces.

* * *

They played for hours, far longer than Brie had expected, to be honest. Thorin beat her soundly the first match, which seemed to please him immensely, but Brie now had a feel for the game again and demanded they play two out of three. Confidence boosted from his victory, Thorin agreed. The second match was much longer and much closer, but in the end Brie claimed it, which left Thorin scowling and eager to begin their third and deciding match.

Intense was too light a word for it. Both parties exhibited a depth of concentration beyond what either had thought the other capable of. If Durin the Deathless himself had appeared and announced his glorious return, it was doubtful that Thorin would have paid any heed. And as for Brie... well, she had quite forgotten about second breakfast, elevenses, and even _luncheon_. The other dwarves began to trickle inside, but all attempts at diversion or even _conversation_ were met with the sternest possible reprimands from both dwarf-king and hobbit-lass, without ever taking their eyes from the game. And when Fili and Kili (well aware of their mother's particular fondness for the game, and having witnessed many of their uncle's defeats) started making suggestions, they were sharply cut off, but not by Thorin.

"If the two of you do not stop talking _this instant_ , I will wait until nightfall and throw you to Beorn!" the hobbit snapped, never looking up from her pieces.

The princes' mouths snapped shut and they watched silently after that.

In fact the match drew quite a crowd of onlookers, not that either party involved took much notice. They weren't even bothering with quips and verbal jabs anymore, so invested in the game were they. Pieces slid across the board, were captured and rescued and captured again. Slowly the numbers dwindled, and then...

Brie had no move. Her hand hovered over the intricately carved weasel that served as her bishop, then withdrew. She had no move. There was nowhere to go. And yet...

And _yet_...

"I believe," Gandalf said solemnly (and when exactly had _he_ shown up?), "We have a draw."

Brie looked up and met Thorin's eyes, brilliant blue and vibrant green colliding, throwing sparks across the board. A pair of smiles spread slowly over their faces and together, as synchronized as Brie had ever been with her brother, they reached out and knocked over their respective kings with a satisfying thump. The dwarves sent up a rousing cheer, and it was only then that Brie even realized they had gained an audience. She blushed, despite her best effort to resist.

"Well played," Thorin's voice rumbled, somehow cutting through the chatter that had broken out amongst the others. He was still smiling, but it was different somehow, one she had never seen on his face before, a purely infectious kind of smile that reminded Brie so very much of Kili that she blinked in stunned surprise.

"You too," she managed to answer.

She might have said something else (though what she might have said, she wasn't certain), but Thorin was already being tugged away by Oin, holding what looked like a makeshift crutch, and Bilbo was pulling on her arm, fussing that she hadn't eaten all afternoon, and the opportunity was lost. Brie tried not to feel as if she had missed something important. After all, it was just a game.

Bilbo sat her down firmly at the table and forced some food on her while Ori showed her his journal, flowers pressed carefully between the pages with notes in the scribe's flowing script dotting the open spaces. Brie felt a little better then, some food in her belly, flipping through the entries, making suggestions for alternate meanings and common combinations, which Ori frantically penned into the dwindling margins. He was very thorough and neat, much like his eldest brother in that respect. Speaking of his brothers...

A dwarf throat was cleared and Brie turned. Nori stood behind her, his hands clutched at his back, grinning like a cat that has caught a little birdie and is only waiting for the right time to pounce. Brie felt a slight twinge of concern.

"Nori?" she asked, trying not to sound like she was preparing to scold him.

Nori's grin only widened though and he raised one braided eyebrow.

"Thought we might try again," he said, revealing what had been hidden behind his back, "Since it went so badly the first time."

Brie stared for several long moments at the bouquet of flowers Nori held out to her. Three long stalks of tiny yellow blossoms, wrapped fetchingly in a band of three-leaved vine.

Agrimony: Gratitude. Ivy: Friendship.

 _I am grateful for our friendship._

Nori began to shift from foot to foot, his once confident grin faltering a bit.

"Got Bilbo to help me," he said finally, "He said you'd know what it meant, he said…"

Brie slid down from the bench and took the flowers from his outstretched hand. She bent her face to the yellow blossoms, breathing in the sweet, slightly fruity scent. She sighed and finally smiled up at him.

"Oh Nori," she said, her voice trembling slightly more than she would have liked, "They're… They're beautiful. Perfect, in fact."

His face lit up with relieved delight and it was such an endearing expression that Brie could not help but bounce onto her tiptoes and peck a kiss to the dwarf's cheek. His beard was less bristly than she would have expected, like a finely groomed pony's mane.

"I am grateful for you as well," she said, "More than words or flowers could express."

Something glorious happened then. Rather than make a cheeky remark as she might have expected, color began to flush Nori's cheeks. He dropped his eyes and rubbed at the back of his neck.

"Well, I'm glad I was able to get it right in the end, anyway," he muttered, turning away and shoving his hands in his pockets, "Couldn't have a black mark on my record."

With that he sauntered off, trying for all the world to look as nonchalant as you please, whistling a cheerful tune. Brie felt a pleased smirk stretch her lips and she twirled about, her head held high and her curls bouncing. Bilbo and Ori were both staring at her, Bilbo wearing his own cheeky smirk, Ori with an expression that was something akin to stupefied terror. Brie frowned.

"What?"

"What have you done to my brother?" Ori squeaked.

"Nothing that he wouldn't do to me," Brie replied primly, "You act as if you've never seen him blush before."

"I haven't," Ori choked, "I don't think anyone has seen it."

"She has that effect, I've noticed," Bilbo said, "Causing dwarves to do the unexpected."

"I do not," Brie said sharply, and ignored Bilbo's raised eyebrow as he buried his smirk in a mug of milk, "And besides, Nori has been making _me_ blush from the moment I met him, the cheeky thing! I think it is well past time the tables were turned!"

"Here, here!" exclaimed Dori, who had shown up somewhere in the middle of this impassioned speech and was sliding in next to Ori, stealing a honey cake in the process, "Whatever you can do, dear, to bring our wayward brother down a peg or two, you have my full support."

Brie nodded thankfully and decisively at the eldest Ri, before waving her flowers jauntily in the air.

"I'm going to see if I can find some water for these," she said, snatching the empty mug from Bilbo's hand and spinning on her toes before he could protest, heading for the door.

Brie rinsed the mug and filled it from the hand pump just outside, plopping her flower stems in and allowing her nose to bury in the blossoms one more time, taking a deep satisfying sniff and sighing contentedly.

"Who brought you those then?"

Brie's smile brightened as she turned to Dwalin leaning in the open doorway, arms crossed, customary scowl on his face.

"Nori," she answered, rearranging the ivy to make it curl pleasingly about the mug handle, "I think he was trying to make up for upsetting me yesterday, quite unnecessarily I might add."

Dwalin nodded, but Brie noticed that his expression remained carefully neutral.

"He seems awful keen on your happiness."

Brie rolled her eyes in good-natured exasperation.

"Oh Dwalin, not _that_ again," she said, "Nori is kind, that's all."

Dwalin snorted, " _Kind_ is not a word I would use to describe the thief."

A snatch of memory played behind Brie's eyes, Nori lying prone upon the scattered rocks of a goblin tunnel with Dwalin bent over him, his brow furrowed with something a bit more than mere concern.

 _Come on, thief… Wake up now, you're scaring the lass…_

"You know, Dwalin," Brie said, hiding a sly smile in the flower stems as she took another sniff, "There are wise sayings about those who doth protest too much."

Dwalin, to his credit, did not react to this.

"So," he said, gesturing again to the flowers, "You seem to like these ones pretty well. What are they called?"

"Agrimony," Brie said, confidently, "And they are my second favorite flower."

Dwalin raised an eyebrow.

" _Second_ favorite?"

"After my namesake, of course."

Dwalin's puzzled expression reminded Brie that she was, in fact, speaking with a dwarf.

"'Briallen' is another word for primrose," Brie explained, "My mother was named after a flower, Belladonna, but she despised it. It means 'silence' and she said she refused to silence me. But my father had his heart set on naming me after her, at least in some way, so they compromised. It was a bit unconventional, but then again my mother never was one for convention. And Father was so insistent…"

She smiled, remembering her mother grudgingly telling her the story when she was a child.

 _Your father so rarely insists upon anything, my darling, I could not deny him. Someday, you'll understand..._

"I'm sorry, lass."

Dwalin's voice (much closer than it had been a moment ago) brought Brie back from her reverie. The dwarf looked terribly distraught, and he reached out to brush a thumb over her cheek, which she was just now realizing felt damp.

"I didn't mean to make you cry."

She almost pulled back, almost scrubbed away her tears and laughed them off, but something in Dwalin's expression, something that was decidedly _not_ pity, but strong and gentle at the same time, stopped her.

"Sometimes I miss them so much, and I don't realize it until it's too late."

The words slipped from her tongue like water from the nearby spout, matter-of-fact and calm. Dwalin nodded and let his hand rest on her shoulder.

"I know," was all he said.

And she believed him.

Beorn and Gandalf didn't return that night, and Brie did not feel in any right state for songs or dances. She begged off for the evening, and went to bed early, taking her cup of flowers with her, keeping it close by her head, hoping the scent might soothe her. But even so, she did not sleep well, dreaming of cold winds, white snarls, and the pale shape of her mother lying under a thin sheen of sweat.

Her restless sleep did nothing for her mood the next day. She felt antsy and unsettled, quite unfit for company though Bilbo did invite her to come out and help with the plant dictionary. He had gained another member to his small group, Oin, though he seemed more interested in the medicinal properties of the herbs.

Brie felt far too fidgety to stomach the thought of lazing about in the sunshine today, though no one else seemed to be having trouble finding things to keep themselves occupied. Even Thorin was nowhere to be found. She felt a twist of disappointment as she surveyed the empty spot by the hearth. Apparently he'd made good use of the crutch Oin had constructed and escaped to Green Mother knew where. Though why she should be disappointed by this, she hadn't a clue.

She took a moment to glare at her bow leaning in the corner, idle and mocking in its uselessness. What she wouldn't give for just a single arrow... but there was no help for that. No amount of wishing would bring her silver arrows back. They had served their purpose and now she must do without.

"I thought you'd be in the garden."

Brie jumped. She hadn't even noticed Kili sitting cross-legged in the far corner of the room. The dwarf prince grinned at her startled expression (and that same playful grin had _definitely_ graced Thorin's face yesterday, she was sure of it now) and returned to whittling on the stick lying in his lap. He was surrounded by the piles of sticks and goose feathers he had been collecting the past couple of days (she had seen the geese and they were indeed _enormous_ , almost as tall as she was), as well as a bowl filled with water and lengths of floating string.

"I... No, I'm too restless today for flowers," she said, regaining her composure, "Where's Dwalin?"

Perhaps she could convince him to return to her weapons training...

"I think he, Dori, and Fili are chopping up some firewood," Kili said, "Bit of a help out for the host, since he might come back and gobble us up if he's not happy with how we've kept the place."

He winked and Brie managed a smile despite the second twist of disappointment in her middle. So much for that. Kili returned to his work once more, meticulously scraping away the uneven knobs of wood until the stick was smooth. Brie watched him for a few moments, her hands twisting together, anxious to put them to work doing _something..._

"What are you doing?" she asked finally.

"Fletching arrows," he answered, never looking up from his stick, "I'm almost out, seemed like a good time to stock up."

"You can do that?" Brie asked, with a touch of envy, "Just make more whenever you run out?"

"Don't sound so glum, Miss Boggins," Kili said, setting aside his stick and inspecting a couple of feathers, laying them against each other in the sunlight, "I'd planned to measure your draw length in a day or so."

Brie blinked, her hands stilling.

"My what?"

"Your draw length," he repeated, waving the two feathers in his hand at the pile of sticks, "Most of these would be too long for you. Have to measure your draw to make sure I cut them down to the right size."

"You..."

Her voice stuck in her throat. For her. He was going to fletch arrows... for _her_. Had been planning to all along, had not even _questioned_ it. She swallowed and resisted the urge to throw herself at the adorable creature, for fear he might stab himself with the knife he was still holding casually in one hand.

"How can I help?"

She didn't phrase it so much as a question, but almost as a command, her Baggins sensibilities mixing with her Tookish determination.

It was Kili's turn to blink in surprise, but after only a moment he shook his head, his smile taking on a smirkish quality.

"Alright Miss Boggins, I won't argue with you," he said, patting the floor next to him, "Come sit by me and I'll show you how it's done."

She dropped to her knees at Kili's side, peering over his shoulder as he began trimming the goose feathers, explaining the hows and the whys as he went.

As it turned out, Kili was a surprisingly thorough and competent teacher. His enthusiasm for everything he did bled into his instruction, making even the most mundane tasks seem exciting. After explaining the basic principles and demonstrating the skills of trimming the feathers, whittling the arrow shaft, and wrapping the fletching, he allowed her to try each of these tasks in turn, guiding her hand as she tried to cut and shape the feathers and wood with his knife. She felt that she understood the theory fairly well, but it was clear that if she was ever going to feel comfortable, she would need a hobbit-sized knife which, of course, was unavailable. Wrapping the fletching however, was something she took to with gusto, reveling in the precision of the feather placement and the soothing monotony of wrapping the damp string around and around the shaft in tighter and tighter rounds.

"Normally, we'd glue them down with resin," Kili said, guiding her hands to place the new feather at the correct angle to the nock, "But we haven't been able to find the right kind, so we'll have to make do without."

Brie inwardly cursed the lack of resin as the feather in her fingers slipped again and she had to unwrap the string and start over.

By the time the others started trickling inside for luncheon her hands were sore, she'd had to restart times beyond counting, and she _still_ hadn't managed to finish a fletching that met Kili's exacting standards. But still she felt a sense of accomplishment, knowing she was working toward something productive rather than just taking up space and resources.

"What are you so cheerful about?" Nori asked, flopping dramatically into a pile of straw at her feet.

"Oh, nothing in particular," she said, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips.

She glanced down at the dwarf, fully intending to ask what mischief he'd been up to, but a burst of laughter escaped her before she could stifle it.

"Look at you!" she exclaimed, brushing wood chips out of his hair, "You're a right mess! I didn't know you were helping with the chopping."

"If by 'helping' you mean sitting on his arse making unwelcome remarks while the rest of us worked, then aye lass, he was _'helping'_ ," Dwalin grumbled, dropping an armful of split logs and kneeling to arrange the pile neatly next to hearth.

"I was supervising," Nori announced, digging in his coat for his pipe and shooting Dwalin a cheeky grin, "And enjoying the _view_ , of course."

Dwalin threw a scowl over his shoulder at the thief, which did nothing except earn him a wink to match the grin. Dwalin turned crimson all the way to the top of his head and turned to stomp out of the room, muttering in that unintelligible dwarven tongue. From his tone, Brie doubted the words were terms of endearment. She shook her head and picked the last of the wood chips from Nori's hair, smoothing it back into place.

"Oh Nori," she said, smiling fondly, "Why must you always provoke him?"

"What else am I to do?" he asked, finally puffing his pipe to light and sitting back on his elbows, gesturing widely about them, "Nothing to steal, no one to spy upon, I'm a bit out of my element. Besides, it's fun watching him turn that funny shade of red."

Brie rolled her eyes and turned back to her fletching.

"Green Mother bless," she said, "I know I don't understand _everything_ about dwarven culture, Nori, but I'm pretty certain that if you _like_ Dwalin, all you need do is give him a courting gift and have done!"

Nori choked on his pipe smoke. Brie allowed herself a satisfied smirk as the dwarf sputtered and coughed and tried to get hold of himself. He turned to glare at her, pointing his pipe accusingly.

"May I remind you, sweet, that only a few scant weeks ago your precious guardsman had me by the throat."

"Only if I may remind _you,_ dear, that if he'd really wanted to kill you, you'd be dead and we both know it," Brie retorted cheerfully, not sparing him even a glance as her fingers worked the damp string around the arrow shaft, twisting to keep her feather carefully in place, "Are you telling me this incessant teasing isn't a prelude to courtship? Because I will call you a liar."

Nori opened his mouth, paused, closed it again. He puffed furiously on his pipe for a few glaring minutes, then flopped promptly and unexpectedly straight into her lap, jostling her arrow and sending the fletching askew. Brie gritted her teeth against a flurry of unladylike curses and resisted the urge to rap him soundly on the head with the stick in her hand before she began to unwind the string again.

"By that logic, am I to assume that you will soon be plighting your troth with the king?"

Brie jerked so badly that the arrow dropped from her fingers, clattering loudly to the floor. She glared down at the twinkly-eyed dwarf in her lap, who only grinned before sending a puff of smoke floating into her face. She coughed and waved it away.

"That is _not_ the same thing, and I refuse to be baited away from the topic by your desperate attempt at-"

"Not the same thing?!" Nori said, lifting his head so he could better fix her with his incredulous expression, "You two have been at each other's throats since the moment he set foot in your comfy hobbit hole! According to you, that's practically love at first sight!"

"That is _not_ what I-"

"And if you think I haven't noticed you making eyes at him behind his back, then you have clearly underestimated my level of boredom on this quest, sweet."

"I have _not_ been making eyes at anyone!" Brie squeaked indignantly.

Nori raised his braided brows, but before Brie could protest further, the insufferable dwarf rolled to his feet, brushing at the straw that had stuck to his clothes.

"Tell you what," he said, in the tone of one who thinks they are being exceedingly reasonable, "I shall make a gift of court for the guardsman, when you propose to do the same for the king, and not a moment sooner."

Brie gaped at him.

"That is... the most childish, stubborn, empty-headed…!"

"Let me know if you need help choosing something appropriate!" Nori shot cheerfully over his shoulder as he strolled off, leaving Brie sitting in a cloud of smoke and stunned silence.

"Appropriate for what?" Bilbo asked, plopping down next to her.

Brie jumped.

"Nothing," she said quickly, picking up her dropped arrow and unraveling the string on the fletching, which was now far too dry to use, her cheeks turning red hot, "Nothing, it's just... nothing. How's the book coming along?"

"Oh well enough," he said, pulling his own pipe from his pocket and patting about for his tobacco, "I think we've about exhausted my knowledge on the subject, though not Ori's enthusiasm. I'm sure he'll be along shortly to pick your brain for alternate meanings. What are you working on there?"

Brie showed Bilbo the fletching and did a botched up job of explaining the intricacies that Kili had so dedicatedly taught her that morning. She had never been much of a teacher herself, but Bilbo listened to her diligently, nodding in all the right places and just generally looking pleased that she was pleased.

Ori appeared moments later, hovering shyly along the edges of their conversation until Brie called him out, putting aside her fletching to give her hands a rest and pouring over his book, filling in any bits and pieces she managed to conjure from her memory. Once she was satisfied that she had imparted everything she could remember, sending Bilbo and Ori off to discuss the subtle differences in rose shades, she picked up the arrow shaft and a fresh piece of string, determined to get through at least the first two feathers this time.

"I see my nephew has put you to work."

The sound of Thorin's voice over her shoulder nearly made Brie drop her arrow again, but she managed to steady herself at the last moment. She swallowed and looked up, managing a grin that she hoped didn't seem too forced.

"Well, I've put _myself_ to work at any rate. I needed something to do with my hands."

Thorin nodded and, to Brie's surprise, gingerly lowered himself to sit in the straw beside her. Her eyes flicked up to find Nori leaning in the doorway, grinning at her over Thorin's head and wiggling his braided eyebrows suggestively. Brie frowned at him. She was fond of Nori, but clearly she was going to have to kill him. There was no help for it. She could only hope that Dwalin and the brothers Ri would find it in their hearts to forgive her afterward.

"And what have you done today with your newly found freedom?" Brie asked, pointedly turning away from Nori and concentrating on the precise placement of the feather for her fletching.

"Very little, truth be told... You've gone too far left," Thorin said, and Brie adjusted the feather almost without thought.

"Really? I thought you'd have explored the entirety of the grounds by now. I'm surprised you returned to us at all."

"Contrary to my own beliefs, I am apparently still considered... (you should move that up a bit) ...considered too much of an invalid to... (no, that's too far, go back) ...to venture farther than just outside the door."

"Well at least you got to enjoy a bit of sunshine. That must count for something."

Brie finally felt satisfied with her feather placement and carefully tugged one of the damp strings loose from the bowl at her side.

"I admit... Wait, where's your resin?" Thorin asked.

"Kili said he couldn't find any. We've been making do."

 _"Mahal_ , no wonder you've made such slow progress."

"I think I'm doing well enough!" Brie said indignantly, carefully placing the string under her thumb and running the first wrap around the shaft, tugging it as tight as she could before wrapping again, "I just need practice, I've only been at it for a day after all."

She didn't dare take her eyes from the fletching in her hands. This was by far the best she'd done all day and she didn't want to lose the momentum. She wrapped the string around the feather quill a few more times and then grabbed the next one, hurriedly placing it at an angle to the first.

"Don't rush, or you'll have to start over," Thorin ordered

Brie took a deep breath, then returned to the task.

"But you did enjoy your day out, I gather?" she said, wrapping the string around the bottom of the quill tightly.

"I admit the change of scene was agreeable, but sitting is sitting, and I do not do it well."

"Do I need to pick you more ox-eye?" she asked, risking the tiniest glance up at him. He was staring at her hands holding the arrow shaft, his brow furrowed in concentration as if _he_ were the one doing the fletching. Brie dropped her gaze back to her work.

"I don't see how that would help," he retorted.

"It would make me laugh," Brie said, "Whether it would help you or not is of little consequence compared to that."

She placed her third feather and Thorin's hand suddenly invaded her vision, nudging her placement slightly up and to the left, then retreated.

"I'm glad that my predicament is amusing to you," he said dryly as Brie began wrapping the string around the third quill.

"Your injuries are not amusing, Thorin, but your characteristic stubbornness and inability to see reason in regards to your own well-being are occasionally entertaining, I admit."

"Are you intentionally trying to vex me, Miss Baggins?" he asked, "I sometimes wonder if I will ever have a conversation with you that does not leave me with a raging headache."

"And _I_ sometimes wonder, Thorin Oakenshield, if we will ever have a conversation that does not leave me wondering how many bones would break in my hand if I punched you in the face."

Brie tied off her string with a bit more force than was probably strictly necessary and met Thorin's gaze, feeling a grin tugging at her lips. She was surprised to find a grin tugging on Thorin's lips as well, his eyes blazing. For a moment they were silent, regarding each other with something that was not quite frustration, not quite amusement, and Brie had time to wonder when exactly had fighting with him become…?

But then Beorn appeared, with Gandalf at his side, and roared jovial greetings to all, and the thought was lost. Apparently, the skin changer had been out the past two days verifying the details of their story and had come upon an orc and warg scout, both of which had been taken care of in short order and had put him in a particularly good mood. Brie was requested to sing a song, a jig, something festive, and she replied with enthusiasm, recalling a drinking song that apparently the dwarves knew, and mead was being passed around, and everyone was drinking and singing and generally having a fine time, even Thorin which made Brie glad.

Several cups of mead into the proceedings, Nori found Brie and slung an arm across her shoulders, an impossibly wide grin on his face.

"So," he said, leaning down to speak in what Brie thought he probably imagined to be a conspiratorial whisper, "When's the wedding? Is it too early to lay claim to the godfathering of your children? Because I really would like to get in on the ground floor of that venture."

Brie blushed to the tips of her ears and shoved his arm off, trying her best to remain playful and not act like a fauntling caught in the biscuit jar. Yes, there was no help for it. Nori was going to have to die.

* * *

 **A/N:** Tada! I hope that cleared up some things for those of you who had questions (I'm sure you know who you are ;P), as well as giving you some long-overdue Thorin/Brie fun! See you all in 2017!


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N:** Sorry guys, I thought I was going to get this out a lot sooner than I did. I hope you enjoy and I'll try to make up for the late post! :)

* * *

 **Chapter Seventeen**

For the next few days, the company enjoyed a well-earned, peaceful rest. Brie spent the mornings lounging in the garden with her brother and his entourage (which now included, but was not limited to: Ori, Bofur, Oin, Bifur on his good days, and more often than not, Balin). Ori's notebook was quickly filling up to bursting with flowers and their meanings, and though Brie was no proper healer, her mother had known enough medicinal plant lore to make her conversations with Oin interesting for both parties involved.

Her fletching improved day by day, her fingers working tirelessly as she sat by the fire in the evenings, singing well into the night as she worked. Kili and Thorin took turns observing her progress, forcing her to meet their exacting standards. She knew it would be worth it eventually, and that someday she might even thank them for it, but she found that she often looked forward most to those rare moments when it was only her brother beside her, puffing contentedly on his pipe and not constantly judging her over her shoulder.

It was one of these particular evenings that she first noticed the buttons. She was unraveling another botched up fletching and contemplating putting the thing away for a while to rest her cramping fingers, when she realized there was something… _different_ about her brother. He was lounging in the straw, eyes half-closed as he practiced his smoke rings, one thumb hooked in the pocket of his waistcoat... his _fully buttoned_ waistcoat.

"Where did you get these?" she asked delightedly, brushing her fingers over one of the little circular wood carvings.

Bilbo shot upright, sputtering and coughing on a lung full of smoke.

"Oh," he said, running a hand over the buttons almost self-consciously, "Oh, these? Bofur... Bofur made them for me."

"They're lovely!" Brie said, leaning in to get a closer look.

The wood was beautiful, though she couldn't have said what type it was. The reddish hue was polished to a high shine, and the swirl of the grain seemed to match Bilbo's jacket and waistcoat quite splendidly. On each button was carved a lovely little five petaled flower that seemed to almost pop out of the button it was so lifelike. It took a moment before Brie was able to identify what they were.

"Well, that's awfully clever for a dwarf," she murmured.

"What?" Bilbo asked, looking down to examine the buttons more closely.

"Forget-me-nots," she said, running a thumb over the design, "He's carved forget-me-nots into your buttons, hadn't you noticed?"

"Well, I mean," Bilbo blustered, his face turning a shade of crimson that made Brie grin, "Like you said, he's a dwarf, after all, it's not as if they put any meaning behind that sort of thing."

"Well, it was a thoughtful gesture at any rate," she said, sitting back and picking up her fletching again, "Clever and thoughtful. I'd actually thought to ask someone to carve you a new set, but I'm afraid I quite forgot. I'm glad Bofur had the same thought I did."

Though she didn't say it out loud, it was nice to know there was someone else keeping an extra eye on Bilbo. Bofur had been looking out for her brother nearly from Day One, and Brie didn't know how she would ever repay the dwarf for his kindness.

Bilbo touched one of the buttons and a quirk of a smile tugged his lips. Then he pointed his pipe stem at the fletching in Brie's hand.

"Think that one will pass inspection?"

* * *

The next morning Brie woke up late. She stumbled sleepily into the nearly empty dining room and accepted a hand up to the table from Bombur, who happily passed her the nearly empty plate of honey cakes.

"I suppose everyone went out to the garden without me?" Brie asked, selecting the larger of the two cakes left on the plate.

Bombur nodded, finishing off his own cake and reaching for the plate again, "Aye, your brother and mine, and the littlest Ri all got a bit of an early start today. Though what else they have to record out there, I haven't the foggiest."

"Me either," Brie said honestly. They had just about covered the entirety of Beorn's extensive garden and most of the surrounding grounds as well, "What about the others?"

Bombur shrugged, generously splitting the last honey cake and leaving her the bigger half, "About. Young Kili and Fili were worrying the geese I think, and Master Dwalin thought he saw a bit of fence that might need mending. That's all I heard about."

Brie rolled her eyes as she munched on her half of the honey cake, "Is that dwarf incapable of taking a day off? I think he's been mending and fixing and _working_ since we got here!"

"Habit, I suppose," Bombur said, shrugging as he licked the honey from his fingers, "You don't get something for nothing, 'specially when you've lived on the road, scraping by for so long."

Brie tried to suppress a wince of guilt. She sometimes forgot what the dwarves of Erebor had endured in the years following the dragon. Homelessness and want did tend to irrevocably change your perspective.

Just as she and Bombur were licking the honey off their fingers, Beorn ducked his head into the room and grinned at the sight of her.

"Nearly out, Little Cricket!" he said, picking up the empty plate that had held the honey cakes, "Your dwarves eat like a tribe of goats at milking."

"Oh, we hobbits do our part, Mr. Beorn, I can assure you," Brie said cheerfully, licking the last of the honey from her thumb, "And when the cooking is so delicious, it is considered rude to leave a plate half full."

Beorn laughed, a deep, jovial thing.

"Ah, well, today is baking day!" he said, "Little Cricket wanted to see the recipe, yes?"

"Oh yes!" Brie said, hopping off the bench and hurrying to the large man's side. She barely came to his hip, but he grinned down at her so pleasantly that she wasn't the least bit afraid, "I had so hoped you might impart the secret to me to take home! My relations will be so jealous, they might just leave me be!"

He laughed again and waved toward the back door.

"Come, then!" he said, turning to lead the way.

Brie made to follow, but at the last moment, she turned back.

"Why don't you come with us, Mr. Bombur?"

The large dwarf jerked his head up, his eyes wide, flicking quickly between Brie and Beorn. All of the dwarves were a bit wary of their host, nervous and jumpy whenever he entered a room, with good reason of course. But Brie also knew that Bombur loved food and cooking (he was very hobbit-like in that regard), and she couldn't resist the opportunity to share a kitchen with him, especially when baking was involved. For though Brie had no talent for camp cooking, baking was something that she took a particular pride in.

"It's alright, isn't it Mr. Beorn?" Brie asked, smiling up into the face of their host, "Bombur is our company cook, I'm sure he'd love to learn the secret to those delicious cakes."

The large man took in the dwarf with one neutral glance, then shrugged.

"If Little Cricket wants her friend to help, I welcome him," he said, before turning and striding off.

Brie grinned and waved Bombur over, who looked undecided and slightly ill.

"Come on, it'll be fun!" she exclaimed, scampering off after Beorn.

She heard a pained groan, and then hurried footsteps pounded to catch up behind her. She felt the smallest bit of satisfied glee.

The kitchen was in its own small building just off the side of the house. A large oven was out the side door, already stacked with wood and blazing. The cupboards were stocked with everything they needed, flour and butter and jars of honey, and there was even a basket of eggs too big for Brie to hold in just one hand (probably from the previously-mentioned enormous geese).

Beorn brought in two boxes so Brie and Bombur could reach the tall counters and, under the skin-changer's guidance, they measured and mixed, kneaded and whisked. When Brie opened a small bag of flour and got a puff of white dust in the face for her trouble, Bombur seemed to forget his nerves and actually laughed, a deep, buoyant sound. After that, the morning turned very pleasant indeed. Bombur told Brie all about his wife and his children (all _fourteen_ of them, which made Brie gape), the youngest of which Bombur had not even met yet, having been due to be born just three weeks ago.

"Had you picked any names before you left?" Brie asked brightly, trying to dispel the look of sad longing that had crossed Bombur's face.

"Baris if it's a girl," he said, concentrating rather harder than strictly necessary on whisking his honey drizzle, "and Bomfur if it's a boy."

"That should please your brother immensely," Brie said, grinning as she flipped her dough and began cutting it out with the large mold.

"Oh, Bomfur was our grandfather's name," Bombur said, "Bofur's already got a namesake for himself. Number Three, and he's just as much a clown as his fool uncle. What I'm going to do with that great blundering idiot is beyond me."

"Oh, he's not so bad," Brie said, rerolling the dough and starting her second batch of cut-outs, "He carved Bilbo a new set of buttons for his waistcoat, did you know? I had completely forgotten about it, how's that for a good sister? Bofur saved the day there."

She looked up and saw that Bombur had abandoned his whisking and was staring at her, a smile twitching under his beard.

"Did he now?" he said, dropping his eyes back to his honey drizzle, "Well that's... nice."

"Bombur..." Brie said, narrowing her eyes suspiciously, "Is there something I should-?"

"What is that Mahal-blessed _smell_?"

Nori sauntered into the kitchen, eyes closed, nose in the air, taking great whiffs of the scent of baking cakes wafting through the open doorway.

"I'm drooling into my beard, this is uncalled for!"

He hopped up next to Brie on her box, reaching over the counter for the tray of fresh cakes Beorn had just pulled from the oven. Brie slapped at his hand, leaving a floury white mark.

"Ow!"

"Leave it be, you sneak thief!" she exclaimed, trying (not very successfully) to conceal laughter, "You'll get yours when everybody else does, and not a minute sooner!"

Before Nori could reply, a pair of blurs shot through the open door, making a beeline for the tray of cakes.

" _Dibs_!"

But before Brie could so much as blink, Bombur had leapt off his box and nabbed the two dwarflings by the backs of their collars, stopping them just inches short of the cooling tray.

"Not likely, you royal scamps!" he shouted, yanking Fili and Kili back another foot before releasing them to tumble to the floor in a heap, "Now off with you both, before I feed your share to the geese!"

Fili managed to disentangle himself from his brother and stood tall, straightening his tunic primly and giving Bombur what Brie could only describe as 'The Majestic Look of Durin'.

"I am the heir to the throne of Erebor," Fili said, "You owe me your allegiance and respect!"

Despite his blonde hair and rounder facial features, Fili looked and sounded so much like Thorin in that moment, it took everything in Brie's power not to burst into a fit of giggles. Bombur gave the haughty-looking princeling an appraising look, and raised an eyebrow.

"Aye, little lordling, I might owe you respect and allegiance," he said, "But as far as I'm aware, _neither_ of those things require cakes!"

"Oh, but _Bombur_...!" Kili whined, pouting from his seat on the floor, "They smell _so_ good! How are we to resist?"

"Yes, how indeed?" Nori said, chewing thoughtfully.

...It was in that moment, Brie realized Nori held a fresh cake in one hand, with a single bite missing. Her jaw dropped open as she stared at his nonchalantly innocent face.

"Oh! Oh, you... _You..._!"

Without thinking, Brie reached into the bag at her side, grabbed a handful of flour, and flung it at him. The white powder hit the side of his head and exploded, covering his skin, his hair, his clothes and the rest of his cake in a fine white dust. Nori blinked. Then he looked down to examine his state, calmly (and quite hopelessly) brushing at his jacket and sending little puffs of white floating into the air. Then he turned and gave Brie a slow, impossibly _toothy_ grin.

"Oh, sweetling" he crooned, "You've no idea what you've just begun…"

Brie realized a second too late what was closest to his elbow and barely had time to move, much less _miss_ Nori's counterattack. A wet glob of honey hit her right in the middle of her head, dripping lazily down her face in a sticky stream. She swiped at her eyes and reached for the bag of flour again, scooping it into her arms and flinging another handful toward Nori's face. But Nori had already moved and the flour instead hit Fili, exploding in a white cloud over his head. He shook his hair like a puppy, sending the dust flying all over his brother.

 _"_ Fight!" Kili shouted gleefully, leaping to his feet.

The kitchen devolved into chaos. Kili grabbed Bombur's open bag of flour and lobbed a handful at the back of Bombur's head. Fili had already grabbed another jar of honey, Nori was flinging globs of the stuff wildly with a honey dipper, and Bombur took off after Kili with his drizzle-covered whisk, roaring a dwarven battle cry. Brie shrieked as she got caught in the face with a handful of flour from Kili and she returned the favor blindly, retreating around the other side of the table, where she slid to a stop. Nori was grinning at her from the far side of the room, one of the huge goose eggs in one hand. He tossed it easily in the air, caught it, and then threw it at her. Brie reacted on instinct and dropped to the floor.

"What in Durin's name...?"

There was a wet splat and Dwalin's voice was cut short. Brie winced, and slowly turned to look. He stood just behind her, bits of shell and egg yolk sliding down his expressionless face. Slowly, deliberately, he reached up and wiped a large hand across his eyes, his expression never wavering, his gaze never flickering from the spot where Nori stood, frozen, his mouth open as if trying to speak, but no words would come.

For a single breath, nobody moved.

Then Nori was off like a shot, racing for the open door. Dwalin lunged after him, catching the hem of his coat just inches from the door frame. Nori stumbled and hit the floor, just as Dwalin lost his footing and tumbled after him. For a moment they scuffled, and that was when Brie finally regained her presence of mind. She ran toward the wrestling dwarves, but Fili caught her about the waist just short of the fight, yanking her back.

"Dwalin!" she shouted, trying to sound stern.

But neither dwarf seemed to hear her, scrambling in the drifts of flour and puddles of honey that covered the kitchen floor. Finally Dwalin rolled Nori onto his back and forced him down with a definitive thump, fists clenched in his coat flaps. He huffed a triumphant laugh.

" _Gotcha,_ you little-"

Nori tangled his hands in the leather straps across Dwalin's chest, lifted his knees, and shoved. Dwalin grunted as his back hit the hardwood, Nori using the momentum to fling himself over, straddling the larger dwarf and pinning him to the floor. Dwalin struggled and glared when he couldn't easily break himself free (much to Brie's surprise, Nori must have been a _lot_ stronger than he looked). A smirk spread across the thief's mischievous face and he bent until their noses nearly touched. Brie almost didn't hear what Nori murmured.

"I prefer top, if it's all the same to you, guardsman..."

Dwalin turned the most brilliant shade of red and, without any warning, freed a fist and caught Nori on the jaw. Brie shouted wordlessly, but she couldn't wriggle out of Fili's grip to reach him. Nori went sprawling and Dwalin got his legs under him, but he remained crouched on the floor, his eyes narrowed, watching Nori warily.

Nori leaned up on an elbow and rubbed his jaw absently, staring at Dwalin as if he had never really seen him before. He opened his mouth as if to speak...

"What in Durin's name is going on in here?!"

Thorin's roar had Dwalin upright in a moment, Nori scrambling after him, while Kili and Fili hid bags of flour and jars of honey behind their backs, and Bombur dropped his whisk and kicked it under the kitchen island. Everyone turned toward the dwarf-king, who was shadowed in the doorway by Beorn, both surveying the room with dismay (for Beorn's part) and a scowl (for Thorin's part). Thorin crossed his arms as best he could while leaning on his crutch and leveled his glare at each dwarf in turn.

"Well?" he asked, his voice dark.

The dwarves all shuffled and stared at the floor sheepishly.

"It was me!" Brie exclaimed, slipping out in front, "It was all me, it's my fault, I started it..."

"Now your majesty I'd not like to contradict a lady," Nori said, stepping up and slinging an arm around her shoulders, "But I'd be remiss if I didn't point out that Miss Baggins was in fact provoked beyond all reasonable expectations of-"

"We were all in on it!" Kili popped in on her other side, "Really Uncle, Miss Baggins was only trying to-"

"I should have been keeping a better eye, your majesty," Bombur said, shuffling forward to join them, "No excuse at all for this kind of behavior, my wife would have my hide if she-"

"We'll have it all cleaned up in a trice, Uncle, I swear it," Fili said, elbowing in to stand next to his brother, "We just got a little carried away, that's all, you know how Kee gets..."

"Hey, I wasn't the one who-!"

"-see here, I'll not be volunteered for any-!"

"-really think we all should-"

And suddenly Brie was surrounded by a pack of bickering dwarves, all talking over one another, jostling and shoving, and making her wonder if another fight wasn't about to break out, with her right in the middle, and...

 _"Shazara!"_

Thorin's roar brought silence down on the kitchen once more. The dwarves all shuffled again and Brie chanced a glance at the dwarf-king. He was scowling at her and she flinched from it, shrinking back into the circle of sticky, floury dwarves.

"I don't want to hear any more about it," Thorin said, turning awkwardly on his crutch, "Clean it up."

Then he hobbled out the door, leaving Beorn behind with arms crossed and a distinctly not-very-pleased expression.

* * *

The mess really was cleaned up in a trice, as Fili had said. Beorn's displeased frown was a very effective motivator, and with five dwarves the work was not all that time consuming. After a quick clean up at the water pump, Brie made up a plate of the freshest honey cakes and slipped out the back door while the others weren't looking. After all, despite what the others had gallantly said, she _had_ been the one who started the fight, she thought she should at least be the one to assure Thorin that it was all put right.

She found him just where she had expected to, sitting on a bench by the door, carving. The first time Brie had caught him like this, it had been a bit of a shock. She knew, of course, that whittling was a common dwarven pastime (she'd seen almost all of the dwarves with a knife and a wood scrap in hand at one time or another), but somehow she had never pictured Thorin as the type. Perhaps because she had rarely seen him with anything that might be considered ' _spare time_ ' in all the weeks she had known him. Perhaps also because he seemed determined to treat it as if it were some kind of a secret from her. She didn't know if he were embarrassed by a lack of skill or simply could not bear the thought of being seen in a relaxed position, but she had caught him at the task several times now, sometimes sitting by the door, sometimes sitting by the fire in the evenings, and every time he sensed Brie's eyes on him he would put the work away, never allowing her to see what it was he carved.

She smiled as she watched him work now, his shoulders hunched over a corner of his oaken shield, his brow creased, his fingers moving in slow, meticulous strokes. But after only a moment he seemed to sense her presence and, seeing her in the doorway, put the shield behind him, out of the way. Brie shook her head, and held out the plate of cakes to him.

"I thought you might like to sample the fruits of our labor," she said, "Since we made such a mess of things."

He took the plate and she hopped up onto the bench beside him. He took one of the cakes and offered the plate back to her. She took one also and for a moment they sat silently, munching on their cakes, still warm from the oven, the drizzle soaked perfectly into the bread making them a bit less sticky.

"I presume this means that all is right again?" Thorin asked.

Brie nodded.

"It really wasn't their fault you know," she said, finishing off her cake, and using a damp rag from her wash up to clean her hand, "I let my Tookish streak get the better of me. Dwarves tend to bring it out, it seems."

She smiled at him, but Thorin only nodded, still chewing thoughtfully and gazing into the middle distance. Brie kicked her feet absently for a moment, then pulled out one of Fili's knives, swinging it lightly in a few of the exercises Dwalin had taught her to strengthen her grip and improve her dexterity.

"Where did you get that?"

The surprise in Thorin's voice nearly made her drop the blade. She looked up. Thorin was looking at the dagger with genuine interest. She turned it over in her hand and readjusted her grip.

"Fili's letting me borrow it," she said, suddenly unsure of herself. She had thought Thorin would have recognized the knife before now, but she supposed he probably wouldn't have paid it any mind… wouldn't have paid _her_ any mind…

Thorin looked up and studied her eyes for a moment.

"Is he indeed?" he asked, his voice thick with emotion.

Brie furrowed her brow.

"Why?" she asked, looking down at the well-worn handle, "Is there something wrong with that?"

Thorin sighed and leaned back, pulling out his pipe and tobacco pouch.

"No," he said, packing the pipe with deliberate care, "It is his blade, he can do with it as he pleases. I was only…"

He hesitated. As if to give himself time to think, he struck a match and lit his pipe, shaking out the flame before he went on.

"It was his father's."

Brie felt her chest constrict.

"Was?" she asked quietly.

Thorin took a long drag on his pipe and didn't look at her.

"He died," he said, finally, "In Ered Luin. He was a miner, there was an accident. Fili was very young, but old enough to know. To remember."

Brie wasn't sure if she remembered how to breathe. Suddenly all of Fili's admonishments to her ( _...try not to lose them… hold on to them for me… don't lose them…_ ) made perfect sense. She stared down at the blade, glinting in the setting sun, and swallowed past the lump in her throat.

"I'll give them back…"

"No."

She looked up surprised.

"Fili is young, but he is not a fool," Thorin said, looking at her with solemn gravity, "If he wanted you to have the knives, then you should have them. I do not question his judgment, I only thought you should know what it is you carry."

He glanced down at the knife Brie held clutched in her lap.

"Such things are precious to us," he murmured.

Brie followed his gaze and studied the worn designs on the hilt more closely than she had before, really taking note of the swirls and intricate setting of the metal. Her thumb brushed along the knot of lines set into the top, tracing the way the carving fit together like a puzzle.

"That is the sign of the house of Li," Thorin said, breathing a puff of smoke into the air, "All dwarven families have a similar symbol. It's how you can tell a family heirloom."

"Durin's house too?" Brie asked, looking up, "Can you show me?"

He smiled, but it seemed a rather sheepish expression and odd on his face.

"Perhaps," he said, "Someday."

That seemed a rather cryptic answer, but Brie didn't want to argue, so she let the matter drop. Dwarves and their secrets… ah, well. Let him keep it. Brie sat back on the bench, swinging her borrowed blade, Thorin's pipe smoke a familiar scent on the summer breeze, and she was content.

* * *

 **A/N:** Along with the obvious meaning, Forget-me-nots also mean 'True Love'… so... you know, there's that ;P We'll see where it goes!


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter Eighteen**

The first morning of the second week, Thorin began to show signs of restlessness. Despite Oin's objections, Brie found the dwarf king hobbling about without his crutch more and more often, pacing back and forth, his brow furrowed in discomfort and determination. Oin secretly confided that this was probably a good thing, loosening the muscles and tendons for more strenuous activity, but they were both terribly concerned that the king would push himself too hard, too fast, if he knew the truth. So Brie fussed, and Oin protested, and Dwalin was set to guard duty, but they all knew it was only a matter of time, now that Thorin had tasted his freedom.

Three days into the second week, he was ordering preparations for departure, despite Oin's insistence that he wasn't yet in a fit state to travel. The king had discarded the use of his crutch altogether by this point, and the stubborn set of his jaw and the stoniness of his glare told Brie it would do no good to attempt logical argument. They were out of time. Still, when he turned to stomp away in an angry huff, Brie could not help but reach out to stop him, to try one more time.

"Thorin," she scolded and he jerked to a standstill, "All we're asking for is one more day. Green Mother willing, the mountain will still be there tomorrow!"

To Brie's surprise, he did not immediately argue with her. Instead his eyes fixed on her hand, wrapped impulsively around his fingers, and his gaze made Brie shockingly aware of how hot his skin was, not warm but _hot,_ and dry, and she could feel the thick pads of unfamiliar calluses between his knuckles and she wondered… She dropped his hand as if it had burned her, resisting the urge to rub her palm where the heat still lingered.

"Very well," he said, turning away, "One more day."

He trudged out of the room, absently rubbing at the calluses on his fingers as if they'd gone numb. Oin, to his credit, said not a word, but Brie caught Nori smirking at her from the doorway, which earned him a glare and a sharp tug on his beard as she passed by. He only laughed and tweaked at her braid before skittering away, whistling to himself. Honestly, he was becoming insufferable!

The extra day turned into two, one last day of rest and a day of preparation. Brie found a moment to speak to Beorn alone, and within moments the skin changer was offering the use of his ponies as far as the edge of Mirkwood. Brie managed to keep her pleased smile to herself as Thorin accepted. At least he would have one more day off his ankle. It wasn't much, but it was all she could do.

The last night in Beorn's great hall was a solemn one indeed. Brie sat by the fire, twisting and wrapping one last fletching, and her thoughts turned toward home, toward her mother, toward thirteen dwarven voices echoing along the too-long empty corridors, resonant with longing and hope and fire.

There was a song her mother used to sing, Belladonna Baggins, née Took, the wandering soul, a song as old as the hills with words that trembled in the memory of her mother's alto voice:

 _"Home is behind, the world ahead_

 _And there are many paths to tread_

 _Through shadow, to the edge of night_

 _Until the stars are all alight._

 _Mist and shadow, cloud and shade_

 _All shall fade..._

 _All... shall..._

 _Fade."_

There were no cheers, no dances, no flutes, when she was done. Beorn slipped out without a word and, just this once, Nori did not ask her to sing it again. Instead he sat back on his elbows at her side, his eyes closed, as if still listening to the echoing memory of her voice. Bilbo leaned into her and Brie put an arm around him, pressing a kiss to his temple. Dwalin settled behind her and, with a quiet murmur, began working his fingers softly and steadily through her hair. And when she chanced a glance at Thorin, she caught his eyes glistening in the firelight's glow.

* * *

The next day dawned bright and beautiful and Brie was up to see the sun rise over the tops of the trees surrounding Beorn's house. The truth was she hadn't slept well, waking in fits and starts, reaching for Bilbo, for Nori, for something that she could not even articulate. When she woke one last time to see the stars fading into the light of the approaching morning, she gave up trying to sleep anymore. She pressed a kiss to her brother's curly head, then to Nori's temple, before she slipped silently out of the hay and into the great hall.

She was counting her arrows for the fifth time and checking the tension on her bow string, when she heard footsteps behind her.

"The others won't stir for another two hours at least," Thorin said, his voice a gentle rumble in the still morning air, "You should be sleeping."

Brie smiled without looking up.

"And you should not be on your ankle any more than is necessary, your majesty," she said, "Shall I wake Oin or Dwalin to remind you?"

His frustrated sigh made her smile widen.

"I do not want to start this day with an argument," he said.

"Then you should have kept silent," Brie replied, the humor starting to trickle into her tone, "Surely you know better by now, King Under the Mountain."

"I stubbornly cling to the hope that someday we will find something to agree upon."

"Your optimism does you credit, but I fear I do not share your high expectations."

He huffed a soft laugh.

"Even in this we cannot agree," he said, "Perhaps we are destined to always be at odds, Lady Burglar. What a pity that would be."

"And who then would question and challenge you, if not for me?" she said, finally turning to face him, wearing a pleased smirk, "It would in fact be _quite_ the pity, to be surrounded only by those who deferred to your judgment without question or thought of their own. You might never have made it out of the Shire!"

"I might never have _come_ to the Shire, if not for the meddling ways of those who question my judgment," Thorin answered. Then his smile softened, "What a pity indeed..."

Brie wanted to snap back a scathing retort, a witty phrase, a clever quip, but instead she found her words curiously lumped together in her throat. She swallowed to try to dislodge the obstruction and her breath caught as well.

She was never so happy to hear the door to the house burst open.

"Up so early, Little Cricket?" Beorn said jovially, "Come, share your last breakfast with me!"

Brie grinned up at the skin changer and turned to ask Thorin to join them. But the dwarf king had disappeared. Brie blinked, and then closed her mouth. She hadn't known he could move so quickly, or _quietly_ for that matter.

Then Beorn was ushering her to the table, and the other dwarves began to come awake, and the house buzzed with the activity of last minute preparations. Brie made sure to load her bags with extra goose feathers and string, and as many honey cakes as she could fit. Beorn had warned them about the forest of Mirkwood, that there would be little to be found in the way of food or drink, and much to be found in the way of darkness and trouble. Brie was nothing if not prepared.

As the others loaded the ponies, Brie slipped away to make a final walk of the house, partly for nostalgia's sake, partly to make sure nothing important had been forgotten. She picked up a pocket knife she thought belonged to Gloin, and a couple of beads that might have fallen from Dori's bag.

On her last turn of the great room, she noticed something tucked into the corner, almost out of sight: Thorin's shield. Brie didn't know if he had simply left it to the last, or if he had indeed _forgotten_ it in the morning rush, but she was already constructing several playful quips in her head about having saved the shield twice in as many weeks, and maybe _she_ should carry it from now on, if…

She lifted the shield from its hiding place and all her thoughts collapsed into a senseless heap. There, meticulously carved into a corner of the wood, so life-like she thought it might wilt if she touched it… was a primrose.

Brie let out a shuddering breath. This… _This_ was what Thorin had been working on, what he had been hiding from her, all this time. The primrose was nestled prettily on a patterned bed of complicated lines, woven together in a never-ending swirl that nearly made her dizzy. It was possibly the most beautiful thing Brie had ever seen. Carefully, she brushed the tips of her fingers over the sturdy lines and delicate petals…

"Does it please you?"

Brie jumped and nearly dropped the shield, clutching it to her chest on instinct to keep it from hitting the floor. She swallowed and took a deep breath, but couldn't make herself turn to meet Thorin's eyes.

"It's beautiful," she said, pleased that her voice sounded far more neutral than she felt, "Primrose is a good choice. You must have been paying more attention to Ori's flower lessons than I thought."

Yes, of course, that must be it. It didn't mean anything. It was just a scratch, a doodle, he couldn't know. The only dwarf who knew was Dwalin and why would he have…? No, Thorin didn't know, didn't know about the primrose, didn't know how it had made her heart leap in her chest to see it carved into the wood, to know that his fingers had worked for painstaking hours to perfect every detail…

It didn't mean anything. It was just a way to pass the time. He didn't know.

She heard his careful footsteps, felt his heat radiating against her back. She closed her eyes, took a breath, and finally made herself turn around, a smile plastered on her lips as she held out the smooth oak branch.

"I can't live without you." Thorin's eyebrows shot up, and Brie's chest fluttered. She stamped down the feeling viciously. "The _meaning_ , primrose. Appropriate, like I said, a good choice for a shield."

A smile touched Thorin's lips as he reached out and gently took the shield from her hand.

"Yes," he said, slowly, as if choosing his words with deliberate care, "Yes, I thought so."

"Thorin."

They both turned. Dwalin was standing in the doorframe, arms crossed, his eyes flicking back and forth between them.

"We're ready."

Thorin nodded and slung the shield onto his back. His smile turned mischievous as he sketched a little half bow to her.

"Shall we, Lady Burglar?"

Brie straightened herself and nodded once, decisively. As she marched out the door, she tried desperately to ignore the tiny smirk that seemed to have crept onto Dwalin's face. Had he…? No. No, he wouldn't have told him, why would he? There was absolutely no reason Thorin Oakenshield should ever know that he now carried her name on his back. Ever.

* * *

Taking leave of Beorn was more difficult than Brie had anticipated it would be. She found that she had grown rather fond of the skin changer, despite his rather frightening alternative form, and his home had a been refuge in a storm that seemed to swirl around them in ever tightening circles. She would miss this place, the flowers, the bees, the over-sized geese, the good food and better company. It was like a hobbit haven in the wilderness, a piece of the Shire transplanted a little too far East. And if _Brie_ felt the twist of homesickness, she knew her brother must feel it even more so. She looked at Bilbo, standing beside her in his ragged coat and gleaming new buttons, and wondered again for the first time in weeks… If it wasn't for her, would her brother even be here?

Beorn's brow furrowed as he towered over the Baggins twins, his arms crossed, as if contemplating them seriously for the first time since their arrival.

"I am afraid for you, little hobbits," he said finally, "The task that has been set to you by…" He sent a sideways glance toward the dwarves, who were finishing last minute preparations and mounting up even as they spoke, "…those you call _friends_ … sending a Little Cricket and her bunny of a brother to battle a drake of the far North…"

"Oh, I'm not battling anything!" Brie insisted, with a cheerfulness that she hoped didn't seem too forced, "I was hired to burgle, _burgle_ the dragon. The battle will come later and I intend to be as far away from that as possible, right Bilbo?"

She elbowed her brother in the side and he jumped, but then began nodding vigorously.

"Right, absolutely! No battles for us, no, we're not the type, certainly not."

Beorn did not look even remotely convinced by this display, but he sighed and relaxed his stiff shoulders the tiniest bit.

"I suppose there is no point in mourning that which has not yet been lost. I know you both to be of sound mind and stout hearts. But there are many perils that lie now in your path, darkness the likes of which you have not yet seen. Fell things creep beneath the canopy of Mirkwood, and the Wood-elves that feast there are not like their kin. They are less wise, and more dangerous."

"Well then, sounds like we'll have to keep a sharp eye on our dwarves, won't we Brie?" Bilbo said, grinning at her, "Who knows what sort of trouble they might wander into otherwise!"

Brie swallowed and managed a smile, but the truth was Beorn's tone worried her. If _he_ was afraid, she felt quite justified in feeling a little bit of fear herself.

Beorn regarded them both for another solemn minute, then he shook his head and finally allowed himself a smile.

"These few warnings are not enough to repay the debt I owe to you, precious children of the earth," he said, "You and your friends have brought music and laughter into my home, things I never thought to hear again. If you are ever in need, little ones, you have only to call for me and I will answer."

"We're the ones who should be thanking _you_ , Mister Beorn," Brie said, "Truly, we are the ones who should be putting ourselves at your service. If there's ever anything we can do…"

"Yes, anything at all…" Bilbo agreed.

Beorn sat back, his hands on his hips, his smile widening.

"Only this I ask of you: when your task is done, you must return and tell me all of your adventure! I would hear laughter and music once more, ere you return to your home in the Kindly West."

"Of course!" Brie exclaimed.

"We'd be delighted," Bilbo echoed.

"Good!" Beorn said, laying a large hand on each of their shoulders and shaking them a bit more forcefully than Brie would have liked, "I will hold you to your word! Now go, while you have the light."

With that, the hobbits mounted their ponies and the company departed. At the enormous hedgerow Brie looked back, hoping for a last glimpse of the big man, to wave one last time, but he was already gone.

And if she happened to catch a glimpse of black fur loping along the hills in the distance not long after…? Well, she saw no reason to alarm anyone.

* * *

"What do you mean you're _leaving?_ "

Brie did not like this place. Mirkwood hummed like the hidden pass of Imladris, but the magic felt discordant here, dark and dissonant. Bilbo had said it felt sick, but Brie thought it felt more malicious than that. More like poison.

And their resident wizard was choosing this particular moment to _abandon_ them!

"My dear Briallen," Gandalf said patiently, checking his horse's tack one last time, "It is no use trying to argue. I always said, from the beginning, this was not my venture. I traveled with you for a while, but now I have things away south I must see to. This quest does not belong to me, it belongs to you!"

He smiled down at her cheerfully.

"Thirteen dwarves and two hobbits! Fifteen, a nice round number if I do say so, and quite fortuitous it would seem, for you have all come out alive and relatively unscathed."

"Only because _you_ have saved us times beyond counting…" Brie muttered, arms crossed over her chest. She was not _pouting_ , of course. She was a middle-aged gentlehobbit of questionable repute, and she most certainly did not _pout_.

Bilbo on the other hand seemed to have no problem at all doing the pouting for her. He looked as crestfallen as the day their father had sat them down and told them that there was no Father Christmas. Gandalf noticed and turned his attention to him.

"You've changed, Bilbo Baggins," he said kindly, and Bilbo looked up, surprised, "You're not the same hobbit as the one who left the Shire."

Bilbo swallowed and shuffled a bit. He glanced at Brie. And his fingers fluttered at his vest pocket. Brie sucked in a breath. Oh… Oh, _that_ …

"I… was going to tell you…" Bilbo stuttered, looking back at the wizard, "I… found something. In the goblin tunnels."

"Found what?" Gandalf asked, his expression curious and… was that suspicion? "Bilbo, what did you find?"

His fingers fumbled nervously in his pocket for another moment and his eyes flickered to Brie again. She met them as steadily as she could. After all, if they were going to tell _anyone_ about it, it should be…

"My courage," Bilbo blurted out, almost gasping as he pulled his hand free of his pocket. Brie let out the breath she'd been holding.

Gandalf glanced between the two of them suspiciously, but then seemed to shake it off as easily as a duck shakes water from its feathers.

"Well, that's good!" he said, gathering his horse's reins together, "You'll need it."

And with a few more strongly worded warnings, the wizard mounted his horse and disappeared over the hills at a gallop. Brie watched him go until he was little more than a speck, her arms still crossed, trying to contain the anger and betrayal threatening to claw up her throat. That was it then. They were well and truly on their own.

As if on cue, it started to rain.

"Come on," Thorin said, his face furrowed in a scowl that Brie had not seen darken his face in days, "We must reach the mountain before the sun sets on Durin's Day."

The other dwarves grumbled, but began to gather their belongings and trudge toward the overgrown entrance to the forest path. Brie clenched her teeth together and took a deep breath through her nose, tamping down her frustration and the niggling fear that was fluttering in her chest…

An arm slung across her shoulders, tugging her off balance and breaking her concentration.

"Come on, sweet," Nori said, grinning down at her jovially, "It's not all bad. You've still got us, haven't you?"

"Is that meant to be _comforting_ , thief?" Dwalin muttered as he stomped by.

"Don't you have a king to be keeping an eye on, guardsman?" Nori shot back, jerking his chin in the direction of Thorin's retreating back, "We're supposed to stay on the path. I, for one, would feel a lot better about it, if _someone else_ had the lead…"

Dwalin grumbled unintelligibly under his breath, but he picked up his pace until he was side-by-side with Thorin, just before he passed beneath the boughs of the trees. Brie giggled despite the feeling of foreboding still curled in her stomach.

"There now, that's more like it!" Nori said, bopping her chin gently with his fist, which she batted away in fond irritation, "It's just trees after all, nothing to worry about."

But, as they passed through the overgrown courtyard and under the archway that led into the dark of Mirkwood, Brie couldn't help feeling as if those were famous last words.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter Nineteen**

The first day really wasn't so bad. The thick leafy canopy effectively sheltered the company from the bad weather almost completely; the only sign that the rain continued was the steady patter of dripping above them. And once they had been walking the path for a while, Brie thought she could almost get used to the hum of magic in the air. It still felt heavy on her, like a wet wool blanket that threatened at every opportunity to scratch her skin, but she felt she could learn to bear it. The dwarves didn't laugh per say, and there certainly wasn't any singing as there had been in traveling days before, but overall spirits seemed high, the whole company just happy to be on their way again, despite the murky shadows and the disappointment of the wizard's departure. The stone path was broken in several places, but when Thorin hesitated, Dwalin was at his side, tapping the haft of his axe to the ground to make sure of their way. Brie was beginning to think this might not be so bad…

Until night began to fall.

The light faded so steadily in the gloom of the forest, Brie was tripping over her own feet before she even realized it was dark. Thorin finally called a halt when Brie could barely make out her hand in front of her own face. The dwarves began to make camp right on the path, gathering wood and laying out packs and bedrolls. Dwalin sat Brie down on a fallen log (without much resistance, she had to admit) and began to take the braids out of her hair with deft and gentle fingers. By the time he was finished and running a comb through her curls, Gloin had managed to build up a fire (not much, but enough to see by) and Bombur was digging through their supplies for something to cook up. Everything felt peaceful, even with the magic humming just under her skin and Brie felt a tension in her shoulders finally start to bleed out.

Something fluttered on the edge of her vision and she jerked. Dwalin grunted disapprovingly and readjusted the angle of her head. The thing flickered by again, and finally glided into full view. It was a moth. An enormous moth, the size of her fist and so black even the light from the fire couldn't seem to penetrate its darkness. It shuddered in the air for a moment and then dropped onto Brie's shoulder with a surprising weight, wings flexing in agitated pulses. It gave Brie an uneasy feeling, and she quickly brushed it away, sending it swooping back into the air.

"Brie…?"

Her eyes were drawn to the anxious quiver in Bilbo's voice. Another of the moths had lighted on Bilbo's hand, flitting sporadically. Bilbo looked as uncomfortable as Brie had felt and he shook the creature free, sending it swirling off to join its companion, circling the camp in fluttering circles. No… there were more than two, Bofur was swatting at another pair with his hat, Kili attempting to catch one in his hands. One touched at Thorin's hair and he swatted at it irritably, but unlike the others, his blow didn't miss. His hand struck the huge moth and it hit the dirt with a noticeable thump. The world seemed to fall silent.

Then the moths swarmed out of the trees like a flock of birds, delicate wings beating wildly at the air and covering the company in dust and darkness. The dwarves surged in a panic, batting the beasts away with whatever they could get their hands on. Brie shrieked as the creatures tangled in her loose curls, lunging to her feet, arms covering her head, stumbling blindly to find her way out of the maelstrom of black wings. A hand caught her arm and dragged her back.

"Put that fire out!" Thorin shouted, pulling her back another pace from the trees, back onto the path she had been dangerously close to leaving behind.

The dwarves sprang into action, kicking up dirt to cover the little flame, and suddenly they were plunged into complete darkness.

Almost immediately voices began calling out to one another, searching in the dark. Brie heard Bilbo's and Bofur's voices somewhere to the left and she made to move toward the sound, but a large hand on her shoulder stopped her.

"Nobody move," Thorin said, and the voices quieted, "We are safe enough, and we don't want to stray from the path unnecessarily. We make our beds where we are."

He squeezed her shoulder briefly, so briefly that Brie could have imagined it, the intention a mystery. Comfort? Emphasis? Did he think she might stray anyway? She could easily see the wisdom in Thorin's words, after all she was as blind as a newborn kitten in this oppressive dark. And besides Bilbo was safe, safe as he could be anyway, Bofur would look after him, she knew that. Tentatively, she reached up and covered Thorin's fingers with her hand, an acknowledgment of whatever sentiment might have been in the gesture. The dark slowly filled again with the muttering of dwarves settling all around them, but it still felt a bit like they were in some kind of painted over bubble, cut off from the world by Brie's blindness. It was strangely intimate, and she became suddenly, _painfully_ aware that she was expected to sleep here, in this bubble.

With Thorin.

"I… I don't have my pack," she stuttered, a split second before she realized she was finishing a conversation she had not been having out loud, "My bedroll, I don't…"

There was a rustle of thick fabric and a heavy, fur-lined, familiar cloak was wrapped about her.

"It shouldn't be cold," Thorin murmured, his hands lingering at the collar, "You can roll up the hood to pillow your head."

"Oh," Brie said, trying to claw her way out of stunned silence, which was difficult with the comforting smell of pipe smoke and iron filling her nose, "Oh, right. Yes, thank you."

His large hands slipped from her arms and Brie realized that she was trembling slightly. She crossed her arms over her chest and tried not to feel as if she had been abandoned here, with no anchor to hold her to the earth or keep her from drifting out into the endless dark…

"Won't you sit a moment, Miss Baggins?" Thorin asked.

His voice came from somewhere closer to her feet, but not terribly far. She dropped near where she thought she'd heard his voice and reached out tentatively, her hand coming into contact with something rough, scraping at her skin. A tree trunk. She settled at its base and her shoulder touched something a bit more giving, something she assumed was Thorin. She pulled her legs up to her chest and clasped her hands about her knees. She found that she was grateful for Thorin's solid presence at her side. The dwarf-king might be nigh on impossible most days, but she never doubted for an instant that he would defend this company (herself included) to his dying breath. His stubborn nature was good for that at least…

…something tugged on her hair and all thoughts of calm reassurance flew from her mind. She squeaked and startled nearly to her feet, tangling in Thorin's over-large cloak and falling back against the tree again with a thump, flailing wildly. Thorin's hands on hers, trying to restrain her, were no comfort at all as she struggled.

"Miss Baggins, what on earth…?"

"My hair…" she gasped, trying not to raise her voice. She didn't want to panic anyone. "One of those… those _things_ in my hair!"

"I don't see…"

"Well, _of course_ you don't, there's no light, we can't see _anything_!" she snapped and immediately felt bad for it. The bubble of panic turned into a lump in her throat and she squeezed her eyes shut tight. Green Mother curse and confound it, she _would not cry…_

"You… You can't see?"

The absence of irritation, and the presence of something that might have almost been _concern_ in Thorin's voice, gave Brie pause.

"I… no. No, not a bit," she stammered, realization coming to her in broken pieces, "Are you… Do you mean to say you _can?_ "

"Only outlines," he answered, his hands relaxing marginally, but not losing their grip on her arms, "Vague shapes and movement. Dwarves are made for the darkness. We were born in it; we spend much of our lives in it."

"So, you can see me?"

There was a pause and Thorin's hands moved, sliding down her arms slightly and leaving goosebumps in their wake.

"Yes," he said, softly, "I can see you."

"Excellent," Brie said, ignoring the tingling on her arms and the fluttering in her stomach. She turned in Thorin's grip, putting her back to him. "Then you could you please check my hair for… _anything_ that might be moving around in there?"

She shuddered at the thought of one of those huge black moths caught up in her curls. It made her scalp itch.

There was a long pause.

"I… It's not…"

Thorin was stuttering. That was new. If Brie hadn't currently been fighting the urge to scream and tear her own hair out by the roots, she might have even smirked a bit. As it was she could only feel a burning sting of irritation. Honestly, _dwarves!_

"Thorin," she said, trying not to sound sharp and not quite succeeding, "I'm not asking for _braids_ or anything. I'd only like you to make certain one of those horrible creatures is not stuck in my hair. Otherwise, I will never sleep a wink. Please."

She could still feel his reluctance, like a palpable presence in the magic-ridden air. But after a short breath, there was a movement by her ear and Brie held herself very, very still. Thorin's fingers were surprisingly gentle as he separated a handful of hair from just behind her ear, running slowly through the curls and working carefully at the tangles so not a single tug was painful. Brie let out a long, slow breath and her shoulders (that she hadn't even realized were tensed) relaxed. He made the same movement again, slipping his fingers into her hair to separate another section, and accidentally brushed his fingertips along the point of her ear. Brie shivered and he jerked to a stop.

"I'm sorry," he said, almost whispering, a gruff undertone to his voice.

"It's alright," Brie said, but her voice was breathy and she jolted upright, clearing the hoarseness from her throat, "Hm, it's alright."

He hesitated, then began again, moving his fingers meticulously through sections of her hair in a familiar pattern that Brie recognized from Dwalin's work on her hair so many nights by the fireside. She might have found that familiarity comforting if it were not for the crawling of magic along her skin. The darkness only seemed to exacerbate the tingling sensation, making it feel as if something were peering out at them, and she kept imagining she could see eyes blinking in the dark.

Brie crossed her arms to suppress any shudders and shifted uncomfortably. It was foolishness, fauntling stuff, but all the same, it was _there_. And though the dwarves might not be as sensitive to the magic in the air as her or Bilbo, they still rustled and grumbled incoherently in the dark, trying unsuccessfully to settle in the disquieting silence. If only it weren't so unnaturally still…

She didn't realize she'd started to hum until she felt Thorin's hand clasp gently at her elbow. She cut off sharply, but Thorin's grip only tightened.

"Sing, if you would," he murmured, leaning down to speak into her ear, "Perhaps it will settle our hearts. Sing, _nanginguh_."

Another shiver shot up Brie's spine, despite herself. She had only rarely heard the guttural language of the dwarves in anything but sharp bursts, words she had been forced to assume were curses. But that word… murmured lowly in her ear, almost as a forgotten afterthought… that was not a curse. She shut her eyes and took a breath through her nose. The magic was playing tricks on her, putting things in her mind that simply were not there. She released the breath, took another, and softly began to sing.

* * *

Thorin let the tension in his hand relax as Briallen began her song, the familiar lullaby that soothed the ear and eased the mind. He could feel the restlessness of those around them disperse with the tune. Thankfully, the thief did not join her, showing a surprising bit of sensible restraint. He had not wanted to encourage any more noise than necessary, to risk attracting the things lurking in the trees just beyond the path. But when he had heard her gentle hum, little more than a soft vibration, and felt his own tenuous nerves settle…

 _Sing, nanginguh…_

He had not meant to say it. The word had slipped his lips, as if she herself had drawn it from them. But she didn't know. It was clear to him that she didn't _know,_ the moment he had caught her with the carving he had never meant for her to see, that he had not intended to make at all, but that his restless hands had not been able to leave well enough alone. She didn't know that… Well. It didn't matter, did it? He had resisted more than this, had turned away from more than _this_ , for his home, for his people, for his kingdom. And if she did not know what it was he resisted, so much the better.

He heard the first snores as members of the formally restless company drifted into sleep. He would not sleep this night he knew, but the others would need the rest. Briallen's voice began to falter, her lullaby ended but still she sang, humming and mumbling short bars of mixed melody, as if to sing herself to sleep. He realized he had not yet stopped carding his fingers through her hair, not daring at braids and yet not able to resist the temptation to touch that which he would never have. She drifted a bit and he carefully resettled, tucking her into his side, as safe from the pressing darkness as he could make her. He had brought her nothing but pain and terror on this journey, and she had repaid him with his life. That, and the tenuous beginnings of what he thought might grow to friendship. He could have that, at least. If he were very careful… and very lucky… perhaps he could at least have that.

He felt her breathing slow and deepen. He ran his fingers one last time through her curls, smoothing them gently into place.

"Sleep, _nanginguh_ ," he rumbled, that word, that treacherous, _revealing_ word, escaping as easily as breath, "You are safe here. Sleep."

She stirred, settled one last time against his side, and slept.

* * *

When Brie woke, she was alone. She had a vague memory of warmth, of a voice in her ear, of fingers in her hair, but she shook away the half-formed dreams and sat up to stretch the kinks out of her back. The light was still dim, but it was hard to tell if that was because of the time or the denseness of the forest.

She caught sight of Bilbo and thought he looked… odd. _Flustered_ , yes, that was a good word, and Bofur was on the other side of the camp, his arms crossed, presumably watching his brother cook breakfast, but there was a crease in his brow that looked out of place on his usually cheerful countenance, his lips turned down in an uncharacteristic frown. Brie's eyes shifted between them several times, trying to puzzle it out. What had happened while she'd slept?

She managed to find her feet and crossed to her brother, touching his shoulder when he did not seem to notice her approach. He jumped nearly a mile out of his skin and Brie fell back a step.

"Bilbo?"

He blinked, then ran a hand through his tousled curls, smiling though the expression did not reach his eyes.

"Oh Brie," he said, distractedly, "Uh, sleep well?"

Brie studied him for a moment, still trying to put her finger on what had happened, on why he looked so out of sorts. She was so intent on it, she inadvertently avoided his question.

"What's wrong with Bofur?" she asked, "Did you two have some kind of… I don't know, a fight or something?"

At Bofur's name, Bilbo's eyes dropped to the dirt and he tugged anxiously on one of his curls, now long enough to cover his ears.

"What? Oh, well… yes. Yes, I suppose you could… That is, I…"

He bit his lip and, after seeming to steel himself for the effort, finally met her eyes. It took less than a minute for the expression of forced indifference to crumple from his face. Brie had never seen him look so very lost.

"Oh Brie," he choked, "I… I think I've made a terrible mistake…"

Before Brie could do anything, before she could comfort him or ask him anything further, Thorin's sharp voice cracked the air.

"Break camp," he said, "We have a lot of ground to cover."

* * *

The ground to cover was even more than any of them suspected. Every day they traipsed further into the forest, and every night they made camp in the complete dark. At first Brie sang her lullaby to dispel the unnatural hush, but each night it worked less and less, and finally she gave it up altogether, huddling with her brother and the Ris, and trying not to see the countless globes of eyes that surrounded them, edging ever closer with each passing night.

The magic also grew more intense the farther into the forest they went. To Brie, it felt as if there were a constant, growing ache just behind her eyes. Her thoughts started to gain a fuzzy edge, as if she were just waking from a fever dream. Only she never truly woke, and eventually she never truly slept either. She came awake in fits and starts, until finally she did little more than doze in the blindness of the night. Day and night were differentiated only by whether she could actually see her hand in front of her face, and it became difficult to tell how long they had been here, wandering the forest. Had it been days? Months? Weeks? Years? It soon felt to Brie as if this was all she had done, her whole life, trudging along the broken path of Mirkwood, searching for… for… what was it again? Something important. Something…

The unending monotony of their journey had tipped from tediousness to habit so gradually that when they finally came upon the stone bridge, it was like a shock of cold water after hours floating in a tepid pool. The trees fell away and the absence of their constant presence was enough to halt Brie dead in her tracks, blinking as if she had stepped into bright sunlight after days underground. But what she saw, in this burst of clear thought, was not at all comforting.

Oh dear. They were in _terrible_ trouble.

* * *

Thorin had meant for Bilbo to cross the river first. He remembered that much. There was a pressure behind his eyes that made it difficult to think clearly sometimes, but he _knew_ he had implied quite heavily that Bilbo should precede them across the strange river. The bridge was broken. The only way to cross was through a series of vines that had grown and tangled haphazardly from one bank to the other. It wasn't safe. His decision to send the lightest of the party across first had been a purely tactical one. It made sense in every way, and he'd been _quite clear…_

…and then a voice that was _not_ Bilbo's was speaking, volunteering, and before Thorin had been able to put the correct name to the voice, Briallen had been out over the water, too far to call back, too late to follow. He even tried to tell himself that it did not matter which of the hobbits went first. In fact it might make _more_ sense that Briallen had gone instead, perhaps he had meant that all along… but then she had slipped and he had moved, too quick for anyone to stop him, quicker than his own thoughts, scrambling halfway across the river before he'd realized that she was alright, already on the other side and waving a hand at them, trying to speak, but he could not hear. The pressure in his head was enormous, as if it might crack his skull like an egg. How he reached the far bank he did not know, fumbling for purchase on the slick vines as the world swayed around him, but the first thing he did when his feet touched the ground was reach for her, his _lukhud_ , his _nanging_ , not quite sure whether to shake her or…

Something moved in the undergrowth and he pushed her behind him, ignoring her feeble protests and questions. His eyes sharpened and his head cleared as the white stag stepped gracefully from the foliage and peered at them. He dimly heard Briallen's whispered _'Oh…'_ , barely more than a sigh that sent a shiver down his spine, while simultaneously setting his blood alight with frustrated fury. He slipped his bow from his back and took aim at the radiant beast, standing so nobly and without hint of fear in this foul place. He felt a feather-light touch on his arm and a gentle murmur.

"Thorin…"

His fury boiled over and he loosed his arrow. It missed, sailing gracefully over the back of the hart as it turned and leapt back into the accursed forest. He let loose a Khuzdul curse he had not used since his early fifties and dropped his bow.

"Oh, Thorin," Brie breathed, her gentle voice scraping on his raw nerves.

"I don't think you should have done that," her brother spoke from his elbow, and _Mahal_ he had not even realized the other hobbit was there! "It's bad luck."

His temper flared unexpectedly, turning his ire away from its source and lashing out at the closest thing to hand.

"I don't believe in luck," he snarled at Bilbo, "We make our own luck."

"Says the leader of a company that had to hire an extra member just to avoid a silly number," Briallen said, a strange giggle bubbling from her lips that genuinely worried Thorin for a moment. But the worry only made him angrier and he nearly whirled on her, the thing he had been trying to avoid with all his strength and heart and soul…

There was a splash and all their attention was dragged back to that thrice-cursed water. Thorin saw Bombur laying in the shallows, and let loose another of his more colorful and lesser-used curses.

* * *

How long was it before they lost hope? Brie didn't know. Hope seemed such a distant thing now, a long ago memory. It wasn't when Bombur fell in the river. Even as the dwarves had grumbled about the extra burden of carrying him, they still carried him all the same, clinging to the hope that he would wake, that escape was still possible. It wasn't when they had begun to realize they were running out of food. Brie had long since given up on hobbit meals, instead sharing what might have been a dwarven-sized portion with her brother, neither of them complaining. When three dwarven meals dropped to two, and then to one, still there was a desperate sort of hope they clung to, a precious spark of _maybe_ and _perhaps_ that colored their dragging, staggering steps. She barely noticed when Nori's arm took to twining with hers, unsure if the gesture was meant to keep her from straying off the path when she stumbled (which was more and more often now) or merely as a comfort, a solace, the pooling together of reserves when hope began to dwindle. And it was dwindling now, she could feel it, could feel it in the ache that was slowly turning to pain behind her eyes, in the itching scrape of magic that curled just beneath her skin.

The only one who seemed oblivious to what was happening, was Thorin. He was stoic, constant, a stone monument given the gift of forward motion, and he had not so much as glanced in Brie's direction since the bridge. Somewhere in her hazy thoughts, Brie discovered that she missed his gaze, the memory of his brilliant blue eyes haunting her across chess pieces, deep in cavernous mountains, warm and cozy in her foyer. Oh, how she missed his eyes, the touch of his fingertips, the warmth of his presence at her back…

She jerked so violently that she put Nori off balance. Her eyes had been fixed absently to Thorin's back (Nori's voice, chiding her for ' _making eyes'_ , was an echo of memory that felt very far away) and now that back was turned, hunched, preparing to strike out into what looked to be a clear patch, but was definitely _not_ the path.

"Stop…" she tried to cry out, but it came out as a husky rasp. How long had it been since she'd spoken? Days? Weeks?

It didn't matter. She squirmed free of Nori's grip and stumbled forward, a gruff, familiar voice floating in wisps of gray before her eyes.

… _stay on the path… you will never find it again…_

She grasped clumsily at a ragged sleeve, trying to keep her balance.

"Thorin, wait, please…"

He turned and Brie's protests died on her lips. His eyes… oh, his eyes _glowed_ in the gloom surrounding them, and she thought about the warmth of him, and his claims that dwarves could see in the dark, and it came to her in a haze of tingling clarity.

 _"A forge… There are forge fires inside of him. That's why his eyes are always burning…"_

His hands, dry and hot, clasped the hand that had gone limp on his arm, pressed her fingers to his chest so that she could feel his fluttering heartbeat. His eyes scorched her soul.

"Follow me."

And even though some distant part of her still whispered of gruff fondness, the words burned away like gray cobwebs in that blue flame. Thorin turned and plunged into the forest. Brie's hand was still clasped in his. She followed.

* * *

They were lost. Utterly and completely. Bilbo didn't know how he had allowed this to happen. _Had_ he allowed it to happen? There had been something… something between Thorin and Brie, but then again there had been _something_ between Thorin and Brie since… Was it Beorn's house? The Carrock? Bag End, even? He didn't know, it was all very muddled in that place behind his eyes, vibrating nearly, making his nose itch, it was quite distracting.

What he _did_ know was that they were lost, and that he had snapped at Bofur. He hadn't really meant to, especially not about something as petty and foolish as a _tobacco pouch_ , and he felt bad about it now, but it was too late; too late for apologies, missed opportunities, flummoxed confessions, and oh botherand confusticate _all_ of it! He needed some air. He needed the sun on his face, and the wind in his hair, he needed…

He needed…

He stared up into the branches of the nearest tree. And without a second thought, he began to climb.

* * *

Brie shook her head violently, and pressed her hands over her ears. The dwarves were shouting now, all around her, and she thought her head might shatter like brittle glass in a thunderstorm. She whimpered and pressed her face to Thorin's chest, trying to burrow into his fur collar, to muffle the noise, the shouting, the pulsing screech of magic that was trying to claw its way out through her eye sockets…

" _Enough_!"

Thorin's shout nearly sent Brie to her knees, it was so loud and echoing in her head, but his arm around her shoulders kept her upright.

"Quiet! All of you!"

The dwarves went blessedly, beautifully silent and Brie whimpered again, this time in relief. The magic was still scraping at the inside of her skull, but at least it wasn't so very loud…

"We're being watched."

Thorin's quiet rumble eased the pain by another degree, just enough for Brie to realize she heard whispering, movement, something scurrying in the shadows. She looked up, but her eyes were watering and it was so dark. She saw Nori, back to back with Dwalin, staring out into the rustling forest. She saw Dori with Ori pushed behind him protectively. She saw Bofur and Bifur standing guard around their unconscious brother…

Brother…

Where was…?

She stumbled out of Thorin's grasp, her head spinning, reaching out, looking for…

There was a scuffle, something pricked her in the side, and the last thing she remembered was Thorin's voice in the distance, shouting her name.

* * *

 **Khuzdul Translations:**

 _nanging/nanginguh-_ flower/my flower

 _Lukhud-_ light


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N:** Wow, so many great responses to the last chapter! Thank you all so much, I'm glad you're enjoying the story! :D That being said, I must warn you that I might be cutting down updates to _bimonthly_ instead of weekly for a while. I have a lot going on right now and I want to be sure that I'm producing the quality of work you guys have come to expect thus far. Thank you for your understanding. Enjoy the next chapter!

 **A/N(2):** I know that several of you enjoyed Tauriel's little bit in this chapter, but after review I really do feel it was a bit out of character for her at this point in the story. As a result, the scene has been slightly altered. Apologies for any confusion and/or disappointment this may cause.

* * *

 **Chapter 20**

Briallen woke when she hit the ground with a thump. She groaned. Had she tripped? Had she fallen asleep standing? It didn't seem all that unlikely, the magic of Mirkwood had been doing strange things to her head. She made to push herself upright and that was when she realized she couldn't move. She was wrapped head-to-toe in something sticky, and white, and she _couldn't move_! Her voice stuck in her throat, her body went cold all over, there was an echoing howl in her ears…

"Brie!"

"Where is she?"

"Briallen!"

There was shouting, dwarven voices that cut through the memory of wind and swirling snow. Hands fumbled at whatever had entrapped her, ripping and tearing until her face was freed and she sucked in a desperate gasp, not realizing until that moment that she hadn't been breathing. Dwalin was kneeling beside her, clearing the last of the sticky strands from her face.

"She's here!" he shouted over his shoulder before turning back to her, "It's alright, lass, we've got you."

With a twirl of his knife, he made quick work of the rest of her bonds and hauled her up, steadying her when she swayed. Before she had quite found her feet, she was swept off them again, buried in a fierce dwarf hug and Nori's voice, babbling incomprehensible Khuzdul, of which Brie only caught about every third word.

"… _gurûda… Mahal gand… umhad… namaduh_ …"

And then he dropped her, so suddenly that she stumbled, and took a hurried step back, wearing the expression of someone who has let slip a secret so deep even he hadn't known it until this moment.

"I… That is… I only meant…"

"Where's Bilbo?" Ori shouted, drawing Brie's attention from Nori's strange behavior with a jolt.

"I'm up here!"

But before Brie could spot him up in the trees there was a terrible noise, something between a shriek and a chitter, and a black, writhing mass came tumbling from the branches, landing on its back not ten paces from where Brie stood, legs twitching and curling in its death throes. Brie could not even scream. Her voice felt locked somewhere in the center of her throat.

"Bilbo!" someone shouted (it sounded like Bofur, only she had never heard him so frightened before), but there was no answer.

"Look out!"

The spiders skittered from the shadows of the forest, and Brie felt sluggishly as if she should be doing something, as if there were something she was forgetting, but she couldn't think, couldn't move…

"Briallen!"

Thorin gripped her arm so tightly that it nearly hurt and she blinked at him in surprise. His eyes were burning blue coals, fierce and sharp.

"Remember the river."

And all at once the world went white, the wind was howling, teeth snapping and snarling in the icy storm of her memory, and without realizing it was happening, her bow was in her hand, an arrow loosed from the string. It struck the approaching ( _spider, it was a spider, but she couldn't think of that now, it was a wolf, had to be, she could kill a wolf)_ with a thunk and a squeal, and she was already drawing back again, loosing arrow after arrow, but still they came, lunging from the shadows, falling from the trees.

In a moment's breath, Thorin grabbed her by the hand, keeping her from nocking another arrow.

"Come on!"

And they were running, slipping through the trees, only Brie barely saw them, all she saw was the snow and the ice and the wolves that skittered and shrieked at their heels as they fled. They would catch them, they would kill again and again, and no one would stop them, they would cross the river and there was no one to…

"Brie! _Brie_!"

Her brother's voice snapped the thread of her memory. She was in Mirkwood again, and her brother was calling for her.

"Bilbo!" she shouted, hoping her voice would carry, that he would find her, "Bilbo!"

She saw him burst through the trees and race toward them, covered in sticky spider web, his sword gleaming in his hand, and she was so relieved that she almost knocked right into Thorin's back as he pulled up short, dropping her hand and shoving her behind him, gripping his sword in both hands and his eyes flitting warily around them. Brie pressed her back to his and put an arrow to her bow string, trying to see something, _anything_ through the dark tangle of trees. The other dwarves formed up in a tight knot behind them, and she saw Bilbo sliding to a stop at the edge of the trees, his sword gleaming, his shoulders tense. There was a moment of eerie stillness.

"What…?" Brie began.

And then the spiders dropped, gliding to the ground on thick ropes of sticky white web, mandibles clicking and making shrill noises that might have been laughter. The winter river filled her veins once more and Brie pulled back her bowstring, sighting her arrow.

"Stay together!" Thorin shouted, swinging his sword, " _Du bekar_!"

" ** _Du bekar_!** " the others answered and Brie let out a long, slow breath…

The hunting horn sounded nothing like the horns of Imladris, though it was undeniably elvish. It sounded once, bright and clear, laced with a solemn tone quite different from the playful notes of Rivendell. Brie looked up.

The elf leapt through the trees on light feet, a blur of long, blonde hair and lithe, graceful movements as he slid down a rope of silk and cut through black spider limbs with fluid ease. Brie lowered her bow, afraid of accidentally shooting him as he whirled and sliced through spiders as if they were no more than paper dolls, throwing himself under the legs of one with such force that his knives split the creature in two. Then he rolled to his feet, placing an arrow to the string of a bow Brie had not even seen that he had, drawing back…

…and aiming right for Thorin's heart.

"Do not think I won't kill you, _dwarf_. It would be my pleasure."

Before her mind could catch up to her, Brie had already taken a step, a surge of forward motion to put herself between the arrow and the dwarf king. Thorin put out a hand to stop her, pressing her behind him though his eyes never wavered from the elf. Brie bit the inside of her cheek and stopped. The elf flicked his eyes, a cold, glittering blue, over her and then back to Thorin. One of the dwarves took her arm and gently tugged her back.

"Don't move, sweet," Nori murmured, wrapping his arm around her.

Brie glanced up at him and that was when she saw. Elves… Elves _everywhere_ , on the ground, in the trees, a dozen, two dozen, more even than that, arrow tips glimmering like the uncounted stars in the dim light that managed to filter through the trees. They were trapped.

Brie caught her brother's eye quite by accident. He was crouched just beyond the circle of dwarves, hidden from immediate sight by a well-placed shrub. She saw him fidget for half a moment and she shook her head slightly, not wanting him to do anything foolish or… His hand reached ever so slowly for his right vest pocket, and she understood. Oh… Oh, of course, of _course_! Oh, that was _brilliant_! If she could have, Brie would have kissed him. He smiled a little at her, reading her face like a familiar old book, and then…

From somewhere in the woods behind them, Kili let out a shout. Everyone turned, and out of the corner of her eye, Brie saw her brother swallowed up into nothingness. She held her breath. No one seemed to notice.

"Kili!" Fili screamed.

The rustling sounds of a struggle and several muffled shouts reached their ears through the impenetrable tangle of trees. It was impossible to see anything and they all held their breaths as they waited, Nori's arm draped around Brie's collarbone tensing slightly, trembling. Brie reached up to squeeze his wrist in comfort, and she felt him let out a slow, ragged breath.

The sounds of the struggle were abruptly cut off and there was silence for a long moment. Then another shout, an affronted sound, and Kili burst out of the trees, a lady-elf with brilliant red hair hauling him into the clearing by his collar and shoving him toward the others. Fili caught his brother and they gave each other a long look, saying nothing, speaking only with eyes and expressions, Fili relieved, Kili reassuring. They softly bumped heads and Brie let out a breath she hadn't known she was holding.

"Search them!"

The elves descended in a rush of grace and efficiency, removing all of their weapons, searching their clothes and bags. Brie's bow was taken, along with the rest of her arrows. She squeaked indignantly when the elf searching her riffled in her jacket, causing Nori to snarl something that sounded particularly nasty under his breath in Khuzdul. In order to prevent incident, Brie simply removed her jacket and waistcoat, allowing the elves to take Fili's knives hidden at her back under her belt. She mourned the loss desperately, but there was no help for it.

The blonde elf, who seemed to be in charge, hefted Thorin's sword in his hand, speaking to his red-haired companion in murmured Sindarin. Then he leveled an accusing glare at the dwarf king.

"Where did you get this?"

Thorin met the elf's eyes with a glare of his own, but his tone was calm and icy.

"It was given to me."

The elf smirked and resheathed the sword.

"Not just a thief, but a liar as well."

"Here now!" Brie shouted, shouldering her way forward to stand at Thorin's side, "He's _not_ a thief! Or a liar! That sword was a gift from Lord Elrond of Imladris!"

It wasn't exactly a lie. Lord Elrond _had_ looked at the sword and he _had_ given it back. He might as well have gifted it to him. Brie put her hands on her hips and stood her ground in the face of the elf's cool gaze.

"Do you even know to whom you speak, you presumptuous, impertinent little…?"

The hand of one of the flanking elves, a soldier at the blonde elf's side, shot out and a loud crack echoed through the trees. Brie fell to the earth on hands and knees, stars bursting before her eyes.

"Hold your tongue before the Prince of the Greenwood, insolent wretch!"

She heard the dwarves snarl, sensed them surging around her, but there was little they could do. They were still surrounded and outnumbered after all.

"Asgaron."

The voice of the blonde elf (apparently the prince) was calm and smooth, but it held a hint of command to it. Brie's eyes were watering from the pain in her face where she had been struck, but she blinked back the moisture (she would _not_ give them the satisfaction of thinking they had brought her to tears) and threw her most fiery glare at the group of elves now staring down at her.

"Is this the hospitality of Mirkwood then?" she asked the prince sharply, refusing Nori's help as she pushed back to her feet, "Is this the legacy of the Woodland Realm, a land of tyrants and thugs? We've done nothing to wrong you, and yet you insult us, accuse us, and treat us as criminals! I've known _animals_ with better manners!"

The elf that had struck her, Asgaron, sneered and made a move toward her again, but the prince held up a hand to stop him. He had not taken his eyes from Brie while she spoke, but his expression was frustratingly unreadable.

"Forgive the rash actions of those under my command," the prince said finally, in a cool, even tone which did not speak at all of apology, but caused Asgaron to redden as if he'd been publicly reprimanded, "It speaks only to their loyalty and the times in which we live. These are dark days, _perian inu_. Our people do not take kindly to the arrival of-" He paused and eyed the dwarves at her back with obvious distaste, "- _uninvited_ strangers."

Brie scowled, her face burning where she had been struck. She would have a mark, she knew it, but she tried not to think about it too much.

"We all live in dark times, your majesty," she said, "That does not mean we must succumb to them."

Brie thought she caught a twitch of movement from the red-headed she-elf, but she did not dare take her eyes from the prince to confirm the suspicion. The prince gave her a long look, measuring, assessing.

Then he turned and gave a sharp order in Sindarin, and the group was moving, herded along through the trees without another word.

"Thorin, where's Bilbo?"

Bofur's panicked whispered brought Brie's head up and around, as if she might catch a glimpse of her brother in shadows. Which of course was ridiculous, but still she…

A hand grabbed her by the collar and shoved her forward, nearly causing her to stumble. She whirled and opened her mouth, but instantly bit back her sharp complaint. The elf that had shoved her was the same elf that had struck her.

" _Menif, perian 'waur_ ," he snapped, glaring, " _I nôl gîn lost?_ "

Brie swallowed and tried not to shrink back, tried not to show fear, but the chill was seeping into her veins again, icy river water…

A tall form slipped smoothly in front of her, partially blocking the sight of the furious Asgaron with a curtain of shiny red hair.

"Come, _perianîth_ ," the she-elf said, her tone not exactly gentle, but not harsh either, her sharp eyes never leaving Asgaron, "With the others."

Brie did not hesitate to obey, fleeing gratefully back in amongst the safety of her dwarves. She pushed her way forward (smiling at Nori and briefly gripping Thorin's arm in reassurance as she passed) and pressed gently into Bofur's side. His eyes flitted frantically along the edges of the path, taking in every movement, every shadow. Brie smiled and took his much larger hand in hers.

"It's alright, Bofur," she whispered and he turned his desperate eyes on her. She squeezed his hand. "Trust us."

It took a moment, but finally he returned her smile and gripped her hand more firmly.

"Always," he murmured, his eyes darting back to the trees in one final, futile sweep, "Always, love."

* * *

"Some may imagine that a noble quest is at hand," the elf sneered, circling like a vulture, "A quest to reclaim a homeland and slay a dragon. I, myself, suspect a more prosaic motive: attempted _burglary_ , or something of that ilk."

Thorin worked desperately to keep his expression stony and neutral, biting back a flurry of scathing retorts. Thranduil's impassive face had not changed one bit in all these years and it still scraped at his nerves like claws on marble. He clenched his teeth and tried to think of something innocuous to say…

"Difficult to burgle something that already belongs to you."

Thorin winced at the hobbit's voice behind him, and Thranduil's keen eyes caught the movement, but he did not make comment on it. Instead, his calculating gaze was drawn almost irresistibly to the girl.

"I'm only saying," she continued with a sort of stubborn foolishness, "Hypothetically, of course, if the thing being burgled was stolen from you in the first place, I'd find it difficult to call the attempted recovery burglary."

Thranduil's head tipped curiously to the side. Thorin did not know which irritated him more, the girl's unrelenting knack for putting herself in harm's way, or the elf's stoically unyielding face. He resisted the urge to react to either.

"And you, child? Who are you to have come so far?" Thranduil asked smoothly, his voice transformed from tempered steel to thick sweet honey, "I have not seen one of your kind for an age or more. And even then you did not seem quite so… small."

Thorin set his teeth resolutely. He would not snarl. He would not move. He would not give the elf the satisfaction of eliciting response of any kind. He stood stiff and waited with an expression of bored indifference while his insides roiled and seethed.

"Briallen Baggins of the Shire, your majesty," she said, in a cold, clipped tone that almost, _almost_ , made Thorin smirk, "I would say 'at your service', but that is currently pledged to another king, and I make it a rule to only serve one at a time. Conflict of interest, I'm sure you understand."

That _did_ make Thorin smirk, a barely perceptible twitch of the lips, but Thranduil was a very perceptive creature. The elf took a step back, his gaze flickering between Thorin and Brie. It took everything within him not to growl.

"An interesting choice of companion, Thorin Oakenshield," the elf-king said, his icy eyes boring into him.

Thorin met his gaze levelly.

"Quite."

Thranduil let his eyes settle a moment longer on Thorin, as if weighing his response. Then he turned quite suddenly, sweeping up the stairs toward his ridiculous throne.

"So," he said, his voice turned back to steel once more, "You wish to be restored to that which is rightfully yours," He settled himself into his seat gracefully, his eyes dancing, a small smile on his thin lips, "I understand that."

 _Your understanding is meaningless_ , Thorin thought, but he said nothing. The elf kept talking, almost bored in his assumptions.

"You seek that which would bestow upon you the right to rule. The Arkenstone-" Thorin stiffened. "-the King's Jewel. It is precious to you, beyond measure."

The elf's eyes slipped over Thorin's shoulder, to Briallen, just for a moment, but Thorin felt his hackles rise and he shifted without thinking, just an inch to the left, just enough to draw Thranduil's gaze back to him. The elf's eyes widened and then his expression closed again. Thorin inwardly cursed his lack of restraint. He was better than this. He was _stronger_ than this.

"I would be willing," the elf-king said, inclining his head demurely, "To offer you my help."

It took everything within Thorin not to start with surprise, which was then instantly replaced with suspicion. He narrowed his eyes and said nothing, tensing as if for a fight.

"The mountain contains many stolen treasures," Thranduil continued, "There are gems in the mountain that I too desire. White gems of pure starlight. I will let you go, if you but return what is mine."

Thorin forced himself to turn away then, to hide his disgust from the all-seeing eyes of his captor. He had to be reasonable. That's what Balin would say, Balin who was so wise, so even-tempered, so pragmatic. They needed to escape. Durin's Day would be upon them in… how long? How long had they wandered this accursed place? How long might they wander still without someone to guide them? How long would they survive without supplies?

"A favor for a favor," he said, and he nearly gagged on the words.

"You have my word," Thranduil assured him, the steel on his tongue turning sweet again, "One king to another."

Thorin straightened, set his shoulders, prepared himself to do the right thing… and stopped. Briallen stood stiff and prim, even covered in dirt and spider web, her bright green eyes locked on him, almost mischievous in their confidence. Trust. She trusted him. Trusted him to do what needed to be done, to get them out of this, to keep her…

His thoughts stuttered to a halt. There was something on her face. A strange shadow, not cast by any object he could see. He moved closer, in such a way that it seemed he was pacing, still thinking, still considering, his back turned, shielding her from the eyes of the elven-king who still watched and waited. With the smallest of movements, he reached out and brushed his thumb across the smudge of color. Briallen flinched, and then set her jaw in stubborn determination, her eyes turning hard and sharp. Thorin felt bile in the back of his throat. Not a shadow…

A bruise.

 _An elven hand… the crack of impact… her fingers clenched in the dirt…_

Every muscle in Thorin's body grew taut as a bow string and he clenched his fists to keep from shaking.

"I would not trust Thranduil, the _great king_ , to honor his word should the end of all days be upon us!" he snarled, whirling to face the elf-king, " _You lack all honor!_ You, and all who serve you!"

And that was that. Harsh words, furiously exchanged, and then they were dragged away, Thranduil's last terrible threat echoing in his ears.

 _A hundred years is nothing to an elf… How will your perian virui fair, do you think?_

The door to his cell slammed shut with an ominous clang, echoed by another just beside him. He pressed himself to the bars, but he could see only the smallest sliver of rock within Briallen's cell. He clenched his jaw and took a step back. He would not give credence to Thranduil's knowing smirk by calling out to her. He _would not_ …

"Did he offer you a deal?" Balin asked, wrenching his attention gratefully away.

"He did. I told him he could go _ish kakhfê ai'd dur rugnu!_ Him and all his kin!"

He heard a small snort from the cell next to his and he could not help his smile.

"Well, that's it then," Balin said with a resigned sigh, "A deal was our only hope."

"Oh Balin," Briallen said, and Thorin could see her now, pressed to the bars of her cell, looking up into the cavern with gleaming eyes and a smile curving her lips, "Not our _only_ hope…"

* * *

 **Khuzdul Translations:**

 _Gurûda-_ I feared

 _Umhad-_ greatest blessing

 _Gand-_ to swear/I swear

 _Namaduh_ \- I'm going to leave this one a mystery for now, to avoid spoilers (if you don't already know the meaning ;P)

 _Du bekar_ \- To arms!

 _ish kakhfê ai'd dur rugnu-_ Pour my excrement upon the naked-jawed ones

 **Sindarin Translations:**

 _perian inu-_ female hobbit

 _Menif, perian 'waur_ \- Let's go, dirty hobbit.

 _I nôl gîn lost?_ \- Is your head empty?

 _Perianîth-_ Hobbit-sister

 _perian virui-_ treasured hobbit


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N:** Happy Valentine's Day, to all my lovely readers! A new chapter, just to say I love each and every one of you! :D

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-One**

Briallen was not entirely sure how long they remained in the dungeons of the Woodland King. There was no light, save that which was provided by torches, and that never varied. They were fed at regular intervals (though not as regularly as Brie would have liked), but there was no way of knowing when they were fed, or how much time passed between meals. She tried to remain calm and stoic, like Thorin in the cell next to hers. Thorin hardly made a sound. Thorin hardly moved. In fact, Brie often had to reassure herself that Thorin was indeed still _there,_ and had not somehow escaped while she wasn't looking.

And, with nothing else to occupy her thoughts, she worried. She worried about Bilbo, free but separate from her, invisible and wandering the forest alone. She worried about the dwarves, who alternated frequently between flurries of frustrated activity and long periods of morose quiet. She worried about the threat of the elf-king, that last verbal strike echoing in a dark place at the back of her mind:

" _A hundred years is nothing to an elf… How will your perian fair…?"_

A hundred years… Her grandfather had lived to the age of 130, making him the oldest hobbit in history. The Old Took, they called him. But Briallen was well beyond her thirties now. If Thranduil made good on his threat…

"Tell me about the river."

The soft rumble of Thorin's voice made Brie jump, nearly banging her head on the bars of her prison. She was sitting on the stone floor, leaned back against the gate, so when she turned her head she could just barely see a sliver of Thorin's cell beside her. He was sitting in much the same way, leaned back, not looking at her, his arm moving in little motions that coordinated with the rhythmic sounds of pebbles skittering against the stone. She shifted so her legs were tucked beneath her and rested her temple against the cool metal bars, watching the hypnotic motion.

"You've never said what happened," he continued, never looking up, "Why that's the place you go when you're afraid. I'd like to hear."

She didn't answer him at first, just watched and listened to the small scrapes of the pebbles, the snores of the other dwarves, the drip of water somewhere distant...

"When I was a fauntling," she began and why she began there she might never know, but once begun there was nowhere to go but onward, "All I wanted, all I _ever_ wanted was to be a Bounder."

Thorin paused in his movements and glanced at her, eyebrow raised. It was only one eye, but it still burned in a way that made Brie's skin tingle. She dropped her eyes and waved a hand absently.

"It's like a… a guard. They patrol the borders of the Shire, keeping an eye on things. It's not a respectable position, really, and they certainly never take ladies, but… it was what I wanted. More than anything in the world."

There was a pause. Then the small skittering sounds of pebbles began again and Brie took a breath.

"My mother was… odd. For a hobbit. But it was because she was odd that she believed in me, in my silly little dream. She always said, if you want something, the way I wanted to be a Bounder, you should do everything in your power to make it happen, no matter what others say, no matter how impossible it might seem. She bought my first bow from a tradesman in Bree on one of her walking trips. I carried it everywhere with me. I practiced every day." Brie clenched her fists and stared at them for a moment, remembering how her fingers had bled, how her hands had cramped, how she hadn't cared at all… "You probably remember the winter of 2911."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Thorin nod.

"Fili fell ill," he said, "And the trade routes were snowed in. We feared…" The sounds of bouncing stones stuttered to a stop and there was a pause. Then they started up again. "What little we heard from the Shire was worse."

Brie blinked away the unbidden image of Fili, handsome, cheeky Fili, so young, so strong, lying in a sick bed, his family around him, the fearful, worried crease that must have marred his uncle's brow…

"It was like being held at siege by the weather itself," she whispered, "Roads were impassable, food was scarce, sickness-" The words stuck in her throat and for a moment she thought she might not be able to go on. She shut her eyes tight and buried her nails in the palms of her hands. "My mother got sick," she said, and the words came out far more harshly than she had intended, but they came out all the same, "And she didn't get well again."

The silence was deafening. Brie went on before it invited response.

"I was… I was so _angry_. At her for leaving me, at my father too wrapped in his own grief to see me, at the Winter that had taken the one person in the wide world who didn't want me to be anyone other than who I was or what I wanted to be. I don't remember leaving Bag End, but I did. I went out into the snow, fighting against it, as if I could… I don't know, _defeat_ it somehow, on a…" She faltered, a grim smile twitching her lips. "...like a quest." She was careful not to look at Thorin, but she could almost _feel_ his eyes on her. "Like one of the stories my father used to read to us, a quest to conquer Winter, to… to get her back, somehow."

She waited for a scoff, but none came. Not even the sound of skipping pebbles marred the silence now. She shut her eyes, and she saw white.

"I knew about the wolves, of course," she said, "Everyone did, we had been hearing for weeks that they stalked the river banks, getting closer, growing bolder. But I was young, and I was foolish, and I was just… so angry. The kind of anger that makes you believe you are invincible, that nothing matters except what you are angry about. The wolves were nothing to my purpose, my quest. They were nothing… until they were. They came across the river. I was all alone. I had my bow on my back only because I never went anywhere without it, but nothing else. I was miles from home, and as I watched them coming toward me, everything… fell away. I wasn't afraid. I knew I should be. But instead I felt almost… relieved. _This_ was something I could do, a foe I could defeat, something tangible I could be angry at. So I fought, and I _killed_ for the first time in my life, only I didn't feel it. I didn't feel anything. I shot and killed, over and over, until there was nothing left. And the first thing I felt when it was done were the tears freezing to the skin of my face."

She reached up and brushed her cheek with the tips of her fingers, remembering the way the skin had stretched and prickled. There were no tears now.

"I had defeated Winter," she said, "I had killed and won, and… it hadn't brought her back. My mother was gone. My father, as good as gone. And I… I was gone too. Until that moment it hadn't even occurred to me how incredibly… _selfish_ that was."

She spit the word as if it were a bitter taste on her tongue and swallowed back a bit of her own self-loathing. She hadn't realized how very strongly her resentment had lingered.

"Your brother," Thorin murmured, a tone of complete understanding, as if this were the most natural thing in the world.

Brie let out a breath.

"Yes," she said, "Bilbo. If I went on, if I continued this vindictive, pointless quest, he would have no one. He would be alone." She shrugged, staring down at her hands. "So I went home. And I never left again."

There was a pause.

"Until now," Thorin said.

Brie looked up. She could see his eye again, watching her, nearly shimmering in the dim light. She offered him the ghost of a smile.

"Until now."

Briallen wasn't sure how long they remained in the Woodland dungeons. But it was at least a few days later, the unthinkable happened.

* * *

Kili was feeling far too cheerful for being imprisoned. He was grateful his uncle could not see the idiot grin on his face as he turned his mother's rune stone over absently in his hand, running his thumb over the comfortingly familiar lines. He didn't flick it into the air anymore. He was careless, but nearly losing it the once had been enough to teach him a bit of caution. He had been lucky Tauriel was there…

The idiot grin widened, and he bit down on the inside of his cheek hard, trying to suppress it. She was an elf. And not just an elf, but his captor, the one standing in the way of his quest, their kingdom, his family's honor. He should not be grinning like a silly dwarfling at the mere _thought_ of her name… or her eyes, sparkling green in the flickering torchlight… or her hair, silken auburn, begging for braids...

There was a loud clang from above and the sounds of raucous voices floated down into the echoing cavern. What had she called it? Mereth Nuin Giliath, the Feast of Starlight. Apparently, the celebrations carried on longer than just the one night, from the sounds of it. The laughing voices and shuffling footsteps came closer, not sounding nearly steady enough for the narrow walkways or steep dropoffs of the dungeons. Something wasn't right. Kili slipped the rune stone in his pocket and slid to his feet, pressing himself soundlessly to the bars of his cell. There were three of them. And they didn't look in any state to be on guard duty. Two were supporting each other (barely) as they followed the third, a tall elf with a proud face (though a bit ruddy from drink) and long brown hair that brushed at the shoulders of his guard uniform. Kili recognized him and had to suppress a growl. It was the elf that had struck Briallen. And he appeared to be looking for something. He stalked down the walkway, peering into each of the cells in turn, his fellow elves stumbling along behind and laughing.

"Come, Asgaron," one of them slurred, "We're missing the party!"

But their leader clenched his jaw and kept walking, making his way down to the lower levels, where the dwarves were kept. He came upon Thorin's cell first and Kili saw his uncle rise, his fists clenched, his eyes blazing.

"What do you want?" Thorin spit.

The elf paused and glared at him.

" _Ego, nogotheg 'waur,_ " he muttered, and Thorin went rigid with fury, "You should have accepted our king's hospitality while you had the chance."

The elf moved on to the next cell in the line, peering in. He paused. And then he bared his teeth in a menacing grin, like an animal.

"There you are," he hissed.

There was the jingle of keys, and the door to Briallen's cell screeched open. Kili could hear her indignant shout echoing out of the dark.

"What do you think you're doing? Get your hands off me!"

The elf reappeared on the walkway, this time with a flailing hobbit slung over his shoulder. Thorin slammed into the bars of his cell, snarling curses and threats, and the rest of the company were quickly on their feet, Nori the loudest and angriest of all.

"Keep your paws off her, you hear me?! I'll wring your neck, you dirty _zurmahzâyungi inùdoy rukhsizhuniaz..._!"

Dwalin hit the bars of his cell over and over with resounding, resolute clangs, the others shouted and cursed, but the elves ignored all of them. The leader took Briallen (who was putting up her own fight, kicking and shouting and throwing fists at anything that would get near) and kept walking, following the stone pathway deeper into the dark dungeons. As they passed Kili's cell, he shot out a hand to her and Brie caught it, holding on with all her strength and pulling the elf to a brief, stumbling halt. Brie looked Kili straight in the eye, her face set in determination.

"No matter what happens, whatever they want, don't give it to them," she said in a low growl, her eyes flashing, and in that moment, Kili thought he knew why his uncle…

One of the elves kicked at the bars to Kili's cell, the other wrenched his hand free of Brie's grip and they were off again, laughing as Brie twisted and shrieked and fought, the sounds of her struggle echoing long after they were gone from sight.

* * *

Brie was tossed to the stone floor like a sack, landing on her side. She could feel bruises and scrapes developing on her shoulder, her hip, all down her ribs, but she ignored the pain and funneled all her rage into a glare up at the three elves towering over her. The leader, the one called Asgaron, was regarding her with a vicious smirk, his arms crossed. His two fellows flanked him on either side, looking well into their cups and almost bored already.

"Come on, Asgaron," one of them muttered, shoving at his friend half-heartedly, "You've worked 'em up, they'll give Lord Thranduil whatever he likes now. Let's leave her here, someone'll find her."

Asgaron shoved the hand away, his eyes sharp despite the glow of drink about his face. He dropped to a crouch before her. Brie clenched her jaw and did _not_ shy away.

"You're not going anywhere, _perianig,_ " he said, as if he had seen her resist the urge to flinch. Perhaps he had. "Even if they do find you, you'll go straight back to that cell, next to the _naugol-âr_ and all his kin, for the rest of your short, little life."

Without taking his eyes from hers, he pulled a small bottle from the inside of his jacket and held it up for her, letting it catch the light of the torch flame and throw sparkling shadows of amber on the walls of the empty room.

"Do you want to see, _perianig?_ " he asked, turning up his lips until his teeth showed in a grimace, "Do you want to know what waits for you in the dark days ahead?"

"Asgaron…" one of the other elves said tentatively, swaying on his feet and looking very uncertain. It made Brie's blood run cold. "I don't… Do you think…?"

Asgaron didn't even acknowledge that his companion had spoken. He unstoppered the bottle and a strong, earthy smell hit Brie's nose. She had to hold back a sneeze. His dark eyes flashed as he held out the bottle to her.

"Drink."

Brie met his eyes with as much steady disregard as she could muster. Then she leaned forward, and spit at him.

"You're a disgrace to your kind," she hissed, "You, _and_ the king who commands your loya-"

He was so blindingly fast, Brie didn't think even his comrades could have stopped him. Not that they would have, of course. He lunged from his crouch and pinned her to the floor with one arm, splashing the contents of the bottle at her face as she gasped in surprise. The liquid tasted like it smelled: dirty, green, like someone had taken a handful of the poisoned forest floor and boiled it into a brew. She choked as he emptied the bottle, sending it burning down her throat and up her nose and into her eyes.

Then he was gone and Brie pushed back, struggling to her hands and knees, coughing and sputtering. He did not approach her again. He just sat back on his haunches, waiting, still wearing that look of feral delight. Brie finally caught her breath and glared at him as viciously as she could through her blurred vision.

Had he always been so thin? Had his teeth always been that sharp? Had he always…?

He laughed and with that laugh he exploded outward in a flurry of sound and bristling fur. There was no elf, but there was a wolf, his tongue lolling from his razor sharp fangs, fur standing out in tufts on his angular face, sat on thin, muscular haunches that quivered with hunger and bloodthirsty rage. Brie's breath caught in her throat and she scrambled back until her shoulders slammed into the wall, the ice cold wall, her feet slipping helplessly on the slick frozen river. She reached for her bow, for arrows, but there was nothing, nothing but the wind and the ice and the wolf still sitting, sitting and barking out terrible, echoing laughter. The two wolves behind him, _abhorrent_ up on their hind legs like that, were swirling in the snow and the wind, making garbled noises with their tongues that almost sounded like words through their hideous teeth.

"...don't know if you should have…"

"...might not be…"

"...is she still…?"

"Brie?"

She looked up and there was Bilbo, _Bilbo_! She lunged to her feet, but the wolves snapped and snarled and circled, sending the world into a crazy spin, and she could not reach him. He was too small, too far away, and he looked puzzled, out there in the cold, so young, oh, had they _ever_ been that young?

"Brie, won't you come home?" he asked, his tiny hand held out, "Mum's gone and Da won't speak to me. Brie, won't you come home? I'm so alone."

The wolves laughed again, that snarling, barking laugh, but still she held out her hand, reaching for her brother.

"Yes," she said, tears pricking her eyes, stinging in the cold, "Yes, Bilbo, I want to come home. I'm coming home…"

"Not today," the wolf on his haunches snarled, "Not ever, _perianig_. Never again."

And then the wolf lunged and fell on Bilbo, tearing apart his small helpless body. Brie shrieked, but she was frozen to the river ice, her feet would not move her and the wolf sat on its haunches again, the same as it had been, only now there was blood dripping from its muzzle, Bilbo's blood, and there were others, all around, calling out to her in the wind, she could hear their voices, see their faces whirling by, Bofur and Ori, Fili and Kili, Dwalin and Nori…

" _Nanginguh…_ "

Thorin.

There was blood, blood everywhere and nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, frozen to the earth, never to be free of this place until all was gone, all was lost, and oh, so much death, so much, _too_ much...

Brie dropped to her knees, fisted her hands in her hair, and screamed.

* * *

The first scream was more like a shriek, a surprised exclamation more than an expression of fear, but it silenced the dwarves, froze them all in anxious anticipation. The next scream was _real_ , filled with depths of terror and pain that Kili could only vaguely imagine and made his stomach roll, the high-pitched cry reverberating against the stones of the cavern and throwing the dwarves into a frenzy of collective outrage. Metallic clangs resumed as Dwalin continued to throw himself at the bars of his cell, mixed with Nori's shouts and snarls of fury, and Kili could see Thorin gripping the bars of his cell so tightly he thought they might bend from sheer will.

When Tauriel finally appeared on the walkway, gliding across the stone like a cat slipping through shadow, Kili's eyes were drawn to her as one in a dark cavern is drawn to a glowing light.

"What's happened?" she asked, her voice smooth and commanding as she descended the walk in long, purposeful strides, "What is the meaning of this?"

Thorin spit out the most hateful Khuzdul curse Kili had ever heard in his life as she passed, but she did not pause until she reached the open cell beside him. Brie's cell. Kili could not help himself. He spoke.

"They took her!" he shouted, and Tauriel's sharp eyes turned to him, "The bastards took Brie!"

His fellow dwarves shouted abuse at him, for his treachery, his betrayal, but another scream, warbling and desperate now, clawed at the air and suddenly Kili didn't care, he didn't care what they thought, what they believed, he just wanted Brie's pain to stop. Tauriel's eyes hardened and her nostrils flared. Somehow, without any noticeable movement, a pair of blades had appeared in Tauriel's hands and she was moving toward him, her expression set like marble, her hair flying about her like flame.

"Where?" she said and Kili pointed down the path.

"Please," he rasped, a plea with no hint of shame, "Please help her."

Another scream and the she-elf was gone, sweeping past him in a blur of muted color. Kili slumped into a crouch by his cell door, his hands covering his ears against Briallen's screams and the chastisement of his fellow prisoners, and prayed to Mahal he had done the right thing.

* * *

Death.

Snow.

Blood.

Wolves.

Her voice was hoarse from screaming. Her muscles ached from fear. And there was still laughter, the terrible barking laughter of the wolf, the wolf that spoke, the wolf that came for her and kept her prisoner on the snowy river, that destroyed everything she cared about, over and over. The other wolves, the upright wolves, were gone now. She didn't know when they had left. It didn't matter. The laughing wolf was all that mattered.

She knelt in the snow, her knees aching, covered in the blood of her brother, her fault, her fault he was here, _take care of your brother, my dearest_ , her mother's voice loud in her ears, rattling in her head, her last desperate gasps of life.

Fire swept over the snow, Azog chortled above her, and she was covered in Thorin's blood, she hadn't been strong enough, or fast enough, or clever enough, _nanginguh_ , _nanginguh_ , he whispered, but she couldn't see his eyes.

She tried again to scream, but all that came was a desperate, painful rasp.

Things happened quickly then, but most of it was a blur. The laughter of the wolf turned to howls, there were sharp words and light, blurs of color and flashing metal. Then silence. Nothing but the snow and the wind and the gentle swish of fabric coming closer.

" _Sîdh, pinig... Ni si an le nathad… nol beriassen…"_

Fire surrounded her again, bright red and gold, and she whimpered, cowering away, but when it touched her it didn't burn. It was soft and smooth, like silk against her skin and the touch of a hand on her brow was cool and gentle. She took a shuddering breath and blinked her eyes a few times. The she-elf, Tauriel, red hair gleaming in the torchlight, knelt over her, her smooth brow furrowed, her eyes sad and troubled. The wolf… no, the _elf_ , Asgaron, was gone. Brie blinked again and shook her head, trying to think.

"...Bilbo?" she rasped, but no, that wasn't right, they didn't know about Bilbo, so she swallowed and tried again, "Thorin?"

Tauriel's smile was small and it did not reach her eyes.

"He waits for you, little one," she said gently, this time in words Brie could understand, "I will take you to him."

* * *

Kili didn't know how long they waited once the screaming stopped. It felt like forever. He was still on the floor, his brow pressed to the cool metal of the prison bars. It was so quiet. The other dwarves had stopped shouting once the screaming had stopped, but it was a heavy silence, filled with speculation no one was willing to voice. Kili could feel the weight of their resentment and knew that if Brie did not come back, none of them would ever speak to him again. He had given his trust to an elf, their enemy, in the desperate hope that it might save her. If his hope proved misplaced…

A door opened and closed far below. Kili's head came up, his hands gripped the bars. Far down the walkway, he could see Tauriel's hair, burning like a torch in the dark. She held something cradled in her arms. Kili's heart pounded in his chest. She made her way slowly, carefully up the stone walk with her burden, and for a moment it looked as if she would pass right by him. But she stopped, hesitated, and then turned to his cell.

"Open it."

A smaller elf that Kili had not even noticed in the shadow of Tauriel's presence, hurried to obey her command. Kili's cell door swung open and Tauriel knelt at the threshold, placing the bundle of shivering hobbit into his lap. Brie whimpered and curled in on herself, and Kili put his arms around her. Tauriel stood and the door clanged shut again.

"She should not be alone," Tauriel said softly, her voice gentle and remorseful, "I'm sorry."

Kili didn't know what he should say. Words could not express how grateful he was, and how _angry_ all at once. He tightened his hold on Briallen and clenched his jaw, nodding only once. Tauriel returned his nod and continued up the path, the other elf scurrying after her. Kili watched her go, he could not help it, his eyes drawn to the shine of her hair and the swing of her step as surely as they had ever been drawn to gold or jewels.

She paused again before Thorin's cell. She did not turn to look at him, her eyes remained fixed before her. But still she spoke.

"You should know," she said, her voice clear and carrying, "The ones who have done this have been dealt with."

Thorin was seated inside his cell, his back to one of the walls, in a posture of repose that Kili knew he did not feel. For a long moment, it seemed he would not answer her. When he finally did speak, his voice was low, and soft, and more dangerous than Kili had ever heard it.

"If I find that they still draw breath," he said, without looking up, "They will wish that you had dealt with them."

Tauriel's jaw tightened beneath her skin, but she acknowledged him with a respectful dip of her head. And then she was gone, fled on silent feet to the palace above, the noises of Mereth Nuin Giliath still floating down from above.

Kili looked down at the tiny hobbit girl wrapped in his arms, their _mimelhekhinh_ , one he had secretly hoped to someday call _irak'amad_ …

As if she sensed his thoughts, Briallen stirred, blinking a few times before her eyes focused on him. Her brow furrowed for a moment, then she reached out a trembling hand and touched his cheek.

"S'alright, Miss Boggins," he whispered, smiling with the use of the silly name, "You're alright now."

But somehow this did not seem to comfort her. She blinked again and then shook her head, sitting up and clutching at her hair, a tiny moan in her throat.

"Kili?" His uncle's voice was still quiet, but it had lost its dangerous edge. It was not quite pleading but close, the closest Kili had ever heard it come to desperation, "Miss Baggins…?"

At the sound of her name on his uncle's lips, Brie tensed and scrambled away, away from the prison bars, deeper into the shadows of Kili's cell. She wrapped her arms about her knees and buried her face.

"I'm… I'm alright," she called, her voice muffled and trembling, "I'm alright, just…"

"What did they do to you?" Thorin demanded, and Kili winced at the commanding tone he knew his uncle hadn't meant, "Come out and let me see you."

"No!" Brie squeaked, and she was rocking now, ever so slightly, and shivering still, "No, just…" She let out a shaking breath, and then sniffed, "Just leave me alone, Thorin."

There was silence then, another impossibly heavy silence that Kili could feel weighing on his chest. They sat for a long time, Brie on one side of the cell, he on the other, watching her rock, her shoulders heave, her shuddering breaths.

Finally, when he could stand it no more, he got up, crossed to the other side, and sat down beside her, putting an arm around her, laying his head on hers, and holding her as she cried her silent tears.

* * *

Thorin felt as though something inside him had been clawed to apart.

" _Just leave me alone, Thorin…"_

He knelt on the stone floor, his brow pressed to the bars, his eyes shut, trying to remember how to breathe, trying to remember that he needed to. He needed to keep breathing, even if it felt like every breath was a worthless waste. He was helpless, helpless to save her, helpless to protect her from whatever she had faced, whatever pain she had endured, not just in this _Mahal_ -forsaken place, but always, _always_ , ever since he had laid eyes on her, he had brought her nothing but suffering and misery.

But he had to keep breathing. Even if he couldn't quite remember why it mattered. So he took a breath.

And another.

And another.

* * *

 **A/N:** …in retrospect, this may not have been the best Valentine's Day present ever. But I still love you guys! :D Also, a note to those of you who might be unhappy about how I've portrayed Asgaron (if previous reviews are any indication, there will be several of you), I present you with this: All races have bullies. It is universal. That is what Asgaron is, a bully who doesn't consider the consequences of his actions, only that his precious ego has been bruised and so he must hurt the one that hurt him. And I believe that is all I will say on the subject at this time.

 _*takes a breath and waits for the fallout*_

 **Khuzdul Translations:**

 _zurmahzâyungi inùdoy rukhsizhuniaz-_ rough translation is "tree-loving (and I don't mean a nature conservationist ;P) son of an orc-bitch" Yeah, Nori was pissed ;P

 _mimelhekhinh_ \- little queen

 _irak'amad_ \- aunt (yeah, Kili 'ships it ;P)

 **Sindarin Translations:**

 _Ego, nogotheg 'waur,-_ F*** off, dirty Petty-Dwarf (about the rudest thing an elf can say to a dwarf)

 _Naugol-âr-_ Short-One king (again, a pretty rude insult)

 _Perianig_ \- little hobbit (it's not meant as a cutesy compliment, I can promise you that ;P)

 _Sîdh, pinig-_ Peace, little one

 _Ni si an le nathad-_ I am here to help you.

 _Nol beriassen-_ You are safe (literally: protected)


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N:** Wow, you guys… Wow! I'm just... _overwhelmed_ by the support for the last chapter. I was really worried about it and you guys just blew me away with all your lovely words and encouragement. I really am incredibly grateful for all of you, you have no idea how much your reviews mean to me. Thank you so, so much! The next two chapters are gonna be rough, but bear with me :) Onward!

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-two**

It became even harder to track the passage of time, but Brie didn't think it was very long after that Bilbo came for them. She didn't sleep, she didn't dare, not with the wolves still howling and the snow still swirling in the hidden corners of her mind. She watched the shadows twitch and shudder in the corners of the cell, in the cavern just beyond the bars, and she willed herself not to react to them. It wasn't real. None of it was real.

Kili was real. Kili, warm and solid at her side, his arm looped around her shoulders, Kili who was alive and breathing, not torn or bleeding or charred beyond recognition, Kili who was not afraid to sleep, dozing as he rested his head atop hers…

Nori _might_ be real. He had tried to speak to her, had called her name, had called her _sweet_ and _darling,_ had tried to cajole her into the light, but she hadn't answered him. Dwalin had answered instead, Dwalin who might also be real, as real as Nori anyway, insisting in his gruff way that they _leave the lass be_ and for once, Nori hadn't argued or quipped or snapped in response, just gone silent, which made Brie wonder if it had been real at all, and not just in her head.

She tried not to think about whether Thorin was real. His silence made it easy.

So when she heard Bilbo's voice echo down from the cavern beyond and the quiet jingle of metal, she willed herself not to move, not to react. It wasn't real. But then Kili was upright, on his feet, pressed to the bars of his cell looking out.

"She's down here!" he hissed, in something Brie supposed he thought was a whisper, "Bilbo, Brie's down here!"

There was a rattle of keys in a lock and suddenly the door was open and there… There he was. But she didn't believe it, _couldn't_ believe it, her brother was lost, out in the forest, he was lost and wandering, and Brie curled in a little tighter, her arms around her knees, her hair curtaining her face as she stared at the not-Bilbo, who was staring at her in return, his eyes wide and frightened and sad.

"Oh Brie," he said, taking a step, his hand outstretched, "Oh I'm… I'm so sorry, I came as soon as I could. Oh Brie, you _must_ believe me."

He took another step, through the shadows that were still quivering and moving a bit on their own, but he seemed solid enough. Brie lifted her head. He seemed older now, drawn, dirty, but whole. He wasn't young, he wasn't pleading, he wasn't bloody or broken. Brie could feel her resolve breaking down and her lower lip began to tremble.

"Bilbo?"

Her voice was rough, hoarse, strained, and Bilbo smiled weakly, though the sadness in his eyes didn't diminish.

"Yes, Brie," he whispered, "It's me. I've come to rescue you." His smile widened and this time it did bleed a bit into his eyes, "Come to think of it, I've always wanted to say that."

Brie was on her feet, with her arms around his neck, without any memory of having gotten off the floor. She buried her face in his shoulder, breathed him in, revelled in the feel of his heartbeat through his chest ( _I'm real, I'm real, I'm real_ ), and his murmured apologies over and over in her ear. She allowed herself one choked sob and then pulled it back again, forcing her grip on him to relax, forcing her feet to step away, forcing a watery smile on her face.

"It's alright," she said, her voice still hoarse, but steady, "I'm alright. We need to go."

Bilbo blinked and then seemed to remember where they were. His face set resolutely and he nodded once.

"Right."

He turned and hurried out of the cell, working his way down the path with his keys and trying to keep the echoing sounds of dwarven celebration to a dull roar. Tentatively, Brie stepped out of the cell after him, keeping a hand on the wall for anchor… and nearly went nose to chest with Thorin. She shied back again, barely resisting the urge to duck back into the shadows and safety. His face was set in a decidedly neutral expression as his eyes searched her top to toe. Brie turned her face from him, not ready to meet his eyes, shame and guilt burning somewhere in the pit of her stomach.

"I'm alright," she repeated, though no one had asked.

There was a flurry of movement and a dwarf-shaped blur came barreling toward them. Brie jerked back, defensively, unsure if what she was seeing was real or imagined. Thorin's hand shot out and grabbed the dwarf by the back of his coat, pulling him up short. Nori turned and bared his teeth, but Thorin's expression never wavered from that calm neutrality.

"Later," Thorin said simply, "When we're safe."

Nori looked almost about to argue, but at what seemed like the last moment he relaxed a bit. Thorin loosened his hold on Nori's coat and instead gripped his shoulder in what might have been either a friendly or comforting gesture.

"Come on, this way!" Bilbo hissed, scampering past the dwarves and grabbing Brie by the hand on his way down, pulling her along with him. The dwarves followed and Brie had to resist the urge to look back over her shoulder, over and over, just to be sure it was real, that they were really behind her and she hadn't just made it all up in her head.

Every time she stumbled, Bilbo eyed her with concern but said nothing, only squeezed her hand and kept moving, twisting through the subterranean passageways of the Woodland palace. The shadows were long, like dark, reaching fingers and Brie had to work hard not to shy away from them when they reached for her, blinking rapidly to clear the tendrils from her vision. She didn't know if it was getting colder, or if she was simply afraid, and the whispering of dwarven feet on the stone sometimes sounded like the hush of the wind, whistling in the passageways…

"I don't believe it, we're in the cellars!"

Brie blinked and looked up. She didn't remember coming to a halt and she blinked again, several times in rapid succession to make the dim room come into focus. It did indeed look like a cellar, lined with wooden shelves and wood-planked floors, stacks of empty barrels laid out on their sides. There was a wheeze and a snort, and despite her resolve she jumped at the noises. Just off the main room was a small antechamber, and she could see the slumped shapes of at least three elves gathered around a table of empty, or mostly empty, bottles.

Bilbo was trying his best to corral the group of irritable dwarves, but not having much luck, it seemed.

"You were supposed to be leading us out, not further in!" Bofur hissed.

"I know what I'm doing!" Bilbo snapped and Bofur's jaw clenched. Bilbo bunched his fists at his sides and turned away from him, and Brie thought maybe that wasn't real, because that wasn't how Bilbo would treat his friend, he cared about Bofur, he… "Everyone, climb into the barrels, quickly!"

"Are you mad?" Dwalin growled, "They'll find us!"

"No, they won't, I promise you, just please…!"

The other dwarves muttered and grumbled, and the elves in the room beyond stirred and began to grow fur… No. Brie shook her head and blinked her eyes hard. No, the elves were just elves, but they were definitely stirring. Something had to be done.

"Dwalin, a hand up, if you please?" Brie said, her voice quiet, but sharp and commanding.

The dwarves all stopped and stared at her. Dwalin clenched his jaw, looking as unhappy as he ever had, but Brie simply held out her hand to him, her expression grim and demanding. As she'd suspected, he quickly relented, his shoulder's slumping.

"Aye, lass, alright then," he said, stepping forward and sweeping her up into his arms, "Up you get."

In less than a blink she was safely tucked into one of the barrels on the upper stack, and the rest of the dwarves were moving again, shoving themselves into their own respective barrels. Without a word of warning, Nori clambered up and settled snugly into Brie's barrel instead of one of his own, offering only a grin and a wink in explanation. Brie rolled her eyes, but was unexpectedly comforted by Nori's solid presence beside her. It made everything feel a little more real.

"What do we do now?"

The dwarves all looked at Bilbo. Brie looked at Bilbo. Bilbo smiled (a mischievous thing Brie hadn't seen since they were fauntlings) and put his hand on a large wooden lever.

"Hold your breath."

"What…?"

Then they were rolling, and falling, and _splashing_ , and before Brie could scream she was swallowed up whole, drowning, sinking, _dying_ , the river ice pressing on her lungs and weighing her down, holding her under…

The barrel broke the surface of the water and she gasped for air, clinging to Nori as if she might fall through the bottom and be lost. She thought she might cry then, _really_ cry, whether with terror or relief or sheer exhaustion, she didn't know. But she didn't do it. She bit her lip, shivering in the freezing water, and got a hold of herself. She was a Baggins of Bag End, and she would not cry like a child, not even when surrounded on all sides by the rush of water that could swell up at any moment and devour her, dragging her under and taking her life as quick as a blink. She would not cry. She would not scream.

She would not _panic,_ even when she could not find her brother among the bobbing barrels, and all she could think was _my fault, my fault, take care of your brother, this is all my fault_ … until the levered compartment above creaked open and there was a small splash nearby, causing her to let out a shriek that bounced crazily against the stone walls of the underground cavern. And then there was Bilbo, water-logged, dragged into a barrel with Ori, and when Brie reached for him, he clasped her shivering fingers for a moment and she could breathe again, because he was _real._

"Well done, Master Baggins," Thorin said and it sounded surprisingly genuine, enough to make Brie look up sharply, but Thorin's back was already turned and she wondered if that had been real. The shadows and wavering reflections from the water were coming together, starting to reach for her, but at least the cold water had been enough to shock her to wakefulness.

The second dunk at the bottom of the waterfall wasn't so bad, having been warned and able to hold her breath, clutching with white-knuckled severity to the edge of her barrel as it plunged over the brink, emerging in white, swirling foam that nearly caused Brie's screams to come back. It was cold, it was wet, but it was not snow, it was not frozen ice, and there were no wolves…

A horn sounded in the distance behind them. Around a bend in the river, she could hear shouts and then the sound of a clanking mechanics and creaking metal, and Thorin let out a desperate shout.

"No! _No!_ "

They were trapped, bobbing at the gate, with no way out, no way forward and the wolv… the _elves_ closing in. Brie cringed down, away from what she knew was coming, but then the spark of shame lit within her and she straightened, thrusting out her chin defiantly, waiting with trembling knees for…

"Look out, orcs!"

There was a gurgle and a cry of pain from above and an elf fell splashing into the water, a black feathered shaft sprouting from his chest. There were more shouts from above and around, elven battle cries and orcish commands, and all around them erupted into chaos. Brie saw Bilbo manage to catch an orc on the end of his sword, black blood spurting into the water, and Dwalin threw an elbow to one that threatened nearby.

There was a shout.

"Kili!"

Her eyes whirled as the youngest (so young, _too_ young) of the dwarves leapt fearlessly from his barrel and onto the shore, racing up the stone steps toward a large lever above the gate that held them bunched together, easy pickings for the orcs that were still swarming over the walls and the river banks. The others helped where they could and for a moment it looked as if the boy might make it, that they might finally be freed.

An arrow, black as night, suddenly appeared in Kili's leg, just above the knee. He cried out. Fili shouted his brother's name. And Thorin breathed a single, heart-wrenching word.

"Kili..."

 _No..._

And suddenly Brie was up, using Nori as leverage to pull herself out of the barrel and leap across the water, rolling to her feet on the shore.

"Briallen, no!"

She ignored Nori's cries, too late now, small and dim over the clashing of armor and weapons, the cackling of orcs, and Thorin's heartbroken voice echoing in her mind over and over.

 _Kili... Kili... Kili..._

Brie ran, slipping between the legs of orcs who barely seemed to notice her passing. She managed to put one foot on the stone stairs before she met any resistance. A small twisted orc, hardly bigger than she was, stood in her way, a wicked curved blade in his hand. He cackled, raised the blade...

...and a smooth arrow sprouted in his throat. He gurgled once, and fell into the water.

"Go, child!" Tauriel shouted, another arrow already loosed from her string, " _Drego_!"

Brie scrambled up the stairs, snatching a discarded blade from the ground as she ran. Arrows zipped over her head, from above and below, orc and elven alike. She swung the blade in her hand once, clumsily ripping through the calf of another orc who tried to stand in her way before she reached the top of the gate.

Kili lay sprawled on the stone, clutching his leg, and Brie dropped to her knees at his side. The black shaft in his leg repulsed her, dark shadows bleeding from it like ooze that made her skin crawl. She blinked rapidly and the shadows receded, but the feeling did not. There was magic here, dark and ugly, and she didn't want to _look_ at it, let alone touch it. But Kili's whimper quickly overpowered her revulsion and she gripped the arrow in both hands.

"This is going to hurt," she said through gritted teeth.

And then she pulled with all her might. Kili screamed, and Brie dropped the shaft in disgust. The black metal tip sizzled briefly and then burned away, leaving nothing behind but a blunt stick of wood and a lingering horror. Brie blinked again, shaking her head to clear the ugliness, and briefly wondered how much of this was real...

"Brie..." Kili gasped, struggling to sit up, "The gate..."

"Stay!" she shouted, scrambling to her feet and leaping over him to latch on to the gate lever, throwing all of her weight to it.

The sound of metal squeaking under her feet told her the gates were opening. She turned back to Kili, who was already pushing to his feet. She grabbed his arm and hauled him up the rest of the way.

"Kili!"

Fili's desperate shout echoed under them, but before they could even look into the water, an orc sporting a spiky tuft of hair and a beak full of overlapping teeth leaped out of nowhere and snatched Brie by the back, sending orc and hobbit tumbling to the stones. She screamed and in the struggle her hand found the curved blade she had dropped and forgotten in her desperation to help Kili. Her hand wrapped around the pommel and she slashed out desperately. The orc fell with a squawk and a spurt of black blood, but by the time Brie had scrambled to her feet, another had already replaced him and two more were running up the stairs.

"Kili, you have to jump!" she shouted, whirling and swinging the curved blade across the chest of the orc in front of her.

She turned to meet the two oncoming orcs, but Kili leapt in front of her, cutting down one and then the other with a black blade that Brie didn't recognize. He turned and gripped her shoulder so tightly she wondered if she would have bruises. His eyes were hard as flint and in that brief moment there was no denying who he was related to.

"Not without you," he said, hissing through his teeth, "Uncle would never forgive me."

The orcs seemed to come from everywhere and the elves were almost upon them and they had gotten too far to be stopped now. Brie nodded and they ran for the side of the bridge. Kili jumped and Brie let his momentum pull her along, sending her over the side into the swirling water.

It took everything within Brie not to panic as the water closed in over her head. The cold made her want to gasp, but she kept her mouth firmly shut and kicked her legs desperately, trying to find her way to the surface of the tumbling currents that pulled and pushed at her mercilessly. Her lungs started to ache and just when she thought she would lose control of her panic, a hand reached into the water and hauled her up over the side of a barrel, coughing and sputtering.

"Stay down!" Fili shouted and Brie obeyed, curling around herself and shivering uncontrollably.

She could hear the sounds of battle still ringing around them as the water tossed the barrels mercilessly down the raging river, but she remembered little of what happened. It was all a swirl of color and cold, and she couldn't ever be sure what was real and what was only in her mind. She shut her eyes and held on tight...

They were on the shore. Brie opened her eyes and blinked. She couldn't remember reaching the shore. She couldn't remember when the battle had ended. She… She couldn't _remember_...

"Brie?"

She blinked again and looked up. Fili was kneeling before Kili, binding his leg with a strip of cloth, but they were both frowning at her. Fili's jacket was missing and Kili was pale and shivering. Brie shivered herself and pulled… oh. She was _wearing_ Fili's jacket. Her hands started to shake and she fisted her fingers in the leather flaps to keep it from showing.

"Ki… Kili," she stuttered, trying to keep her teeth from chattering. Should she be this cold? "Are you…? Did we…?"

"I'm alright," Kili said, though his teeth clenched around the words.

"We were more worried about you, for while there," Fili said, the frown creasing his brow not lessening one bit, "You… went away."

Brie shook her head and rubbed between her eyes.

"I'm fine," she said automatically, "Just tired."

Yes. That was it. She was tired, that's all. Just tired.

The low muttering of what sounded like an argument filtered into Brie's awareness and she turned toward it. Most of the dwarves (and Bilbo, she noted, some small part of her that had been tied into a knot relaxing a bit) were gathered in a group on the rocks further downstream, grumbling and muttering. Nori glanced behind him anxiously and caught her eye. Brie blinked and he was before her, kneeling in the rocks, hands ghosting over her face, her hair, her shoulders.

"Sweet, sweet, there you are," he breathed, his hands gripping her shoulders as if in reassurance that she was, in fact, there, " _Muhûd Mahalaz_ , you're alright now, you're alright."

"Course she's alright, thief," Dwalin said, his voice curiously gentle, "Just shaken up is all."

Nori nodded, his eyes never leaving Brie's face, his lips thinning into a hard line. His fingers tightened reflexively on her shoulders.

"What did I say about doing brave, _stupid_ things?" he said, the attempted humor marred by the tremble in his voice, "After the last time, didn't I say you weren't allowed? If anything happened and I…You just don't…"

He broke off and shut his eyes tight, taking in a sharp breath. Brie blinked rapidly again, but he was still there, still _real_ , his trembling hands still gripping her shoulders. Brie opened her mouth to speak.

The sound was familiar, the trembling twang of a bowstring and a thunk as an arrow hit home. Brie jerked and Nori moved in a blur to stand at her back, growling, and for a moment, Brie wasn't sure if the sound were dwarven or wolven in origin. Snow was dancing against her vision, all the warmth left her limbs, the whisper of wind gusted in her ears...

"Do it again, and you're dead."

The voice came from a large shadow, standing poised on the rocks of the riverbank, his bowstring taut and pointed at Dwalin. One arrow was already embedded in a stick the dwarf held in his hands and he was very, very still.

"Excuse me."

The shadow's aim turned smoothly to the voice that spoke, to Balin, wise old Balin with his hands outstretched and a tentative smile on his face.

"You're from Laketown, if I'm not mistaken?" Balin took another slow, measured step. Brie held her breath. "That barge over there... It wouldn't be available for _hire_ , by any chance?"

* * *

 **Sindarin Translations**

 _Drego-_ Flee!

 **Khuzdul Translations**

 _Muhûd Mahalaz-_ blessings of Mahal


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

The gentle sway of the barge was soothing and Brie had to keep moving to stay awake. She did not dare fall asleep now. They still weren't safe. So she paced the deck, bow to stern, her arms and her thoughts wrapped shivering about her. She caught the eye of the bargeman tracking her from time to time and knew that she probably made him nervous. She caught the dwarves eying her too, but they were more concerned with watching the bargeman. None of them trusted him. Brie wasn't sure _she_ trusted him, though he seemed to have gotten chummy enough with her brother _._ For now, Brie's concentration was wholly focused on staying awake and keeping the shadows at the edges of her vision from jumping out and taking shape, not an easy task when the ruins and columns started appearing like ghosts out of the fog, reaching for them, looming, threatening.

And then the Mountain appeared. A hush fell and Brie could feel her knees go weak at the sight of it, rising like a monument out of the mist. She reached for something to anchor her, to reassure her that this was _real_ and not some trick of her mind. She fumbled at the edge of the nearest sleeve and shaking fingers gripped hers tight, warm and solid. She looked up. Thorin was staring at the slope of Erebor, his face set, his eyes burning with determination. She wasn't even certain he knew she was there. He was... breathtaking.

Bilbo cleared his throat and the spell was broken. Brie slipped her hand free of Thorin's before he had even torn his eyes from the mountain, shuffling back and wrapping Fili's coat a little tighter around her, shaking away wisps of imagination and whispers creeping into the corners of her mind. She blinked…

The barrel seemed much bigger without Nori or Fili beside her and Brie was able to curl up quite comfortably in the bottom, resting her head against the boards and trying desperately not to drift off… When had she gotten here? She couldn't remember. She could hear hissing whispers close by, Bilbo's voice, Dwalin, Thorin… There was a creak and a whoosh, and suddenly the barrels were filled to bursting with… fish? That didn't seem right, but there they were, covering her over and filling her vision with glistening silver and then darkness. She shut her eyes…

The barrel tipped over and she was hauled to her feet by the bargeman, who looked very unhappy about something. She blinked rapidly and shook her head to clear it. What was he unhappy about? Why were they hurrying? Had something happened while she was buried beneath that mountain of fish scales? She had a vague memory of a voice, muffled and unpleasant, but she couldn't remember… She stumbled getting off the barge and Bilbo grabbed her before she fell. She smiled, gripping his hand tightly, as much for comfort as for stability. There was noise and movement, but Brie was having a lot of trouble keeping up. The dwarves were huddled and nervous, eyes flitting back and forth as they followed the bargeman (Bard, his name was Bard, Bilbo had said) close at his heels through the dirty market, nothing like the sunshine and colored booths Brie had so enjoyed in her youth in Hobbiton…

"Where are we?" Bilbo asked, looking about curiously, but keeping a firm grip on Brie's hand.

"This, Master Baggins, is the world of Men," Thorin growled, his eyes burning as he surveyed the dirty rabble that made careful way for them on the rickety boardwalks. Those eyes lighted on Brie and his brow furrowed, but she couldn't fathom why. She offered him a tentative smile and the lines of his face softened…

"Stop!"

They were running, and Brie was dragged along, slipping on the wet boards, tripping on the market goods in the pathway. Then they were _trapped_ , and Brie felt the cold seeping into her bones, howls on the wind, the flurry of snowfall dancing across her vision… and the dwarves went to work, dispatching the three Men that pursued them with a quiet efficiency that was, frankly, glorious to behold. Brie was dragged behind a net-covered crate by Thorin, who pressed a hand to her mouth to cover the squeak that had been about to escape and put a finger to his lips, his eyes blazing with fire. Brie had to blink several times to respond even with a silent nod. He removed his hand and clasped it to her shoulder, his brow furrowed again, looking at her with… concern. He was _concerned_ and that would not do, not for her, she was alright, she would _be_ alright, she could _keep up_! She glared in response to her thoughts and for some reason that made a smile twitch Thorin's lips. He squeezed her shoulder once, companionably, and Brie felt a knot between her shoulder blades relax slightly.

"Braga, your wife would look lovely in this."

"What do you know of my wife?"

"I know her as well as _any_ man in this town…"

Brie nearly lost her composure. She ducked her head, trying to stifle the uncontrollable giggles behind both her hands, her shoulders shaking and her eyes squeezed shut against the tears in the corners of her eyes. Was she laughing or crying? It felt like crying, she _wanted_ to cry, but she was trying too hard not to laugh to worry about that now. It shouldn't have been all that funny, really, she knew that, but she couldn't stop. Before she could suppress it, a sniffle escaped rather than a giggle, but the dwarves were emerging now, so the danger must have passed. She took a steadying breath and sat up. Thorin was frowning at her again. His hand was still on her shoulder.

"Miss Baggins, are you…?"

"This way!" Bard hissed, his face set in anxious lines, "Hurry!"

Brie blinked…

The water splashed, cold and bracing, and Brie nearly panicked again before she realized she was clinging to Nori and she wondered if the snatches of faded memory that had come before had all been in her mind, had all been nightmares, if they were still in the barrels of the Elvenking, rushing down the river toward freedom, toward… Nori raised her up toward waiting hands, Dwalin's hands, and he pulled her out of the water as gently as one might rescue a drowning kitten. She was sure that she looked no better than a drowning kitten, and she certainly felt like mewling piteously as a kitten might. She bit it back, though, her teeth clamping down on the chattering that felt like an inevitable part of her life now, like something she had always done, ever since the wolves and the river and the blood…

She blinked as something warm was pressed into her shaking hands and she looked up. A child was watching her, though the child was already bigger than she was herself. A child of Men. A girl with shining gray eyes and wisps of brown curls about her round, smiling face. The girl grinned at her as if she were the most delightful thing she had ever seen in her whole life. Brie could not help but smile back, and the smile brought with it the realization of warmth. She was buried beneath a rough, woolen blanket, tucked in the corner of a chair next to a cheery little fire. She blinked several times and felt her smile falter. Where was she? When had she got here? Where was...?

"Are you a fairy?"

Brie blinked again at the child's sincere inquiry, trying to find her voice. The girl had no trouble filling the silence while Brie regained her bearings.

"Sigrid says that you can't be, that fairies don't _really_ exist, and besides you'd have wings if you were, wouldn't you? But you're small like a fairy, and you have fairy ears and all, don't you?"

Brie touched her ears self-consciously, remembering a silly comment, thrown away so carelessly a lifetime ago.

 _You look like an elf! Look at the ears!_

"Well, I…" she stuttered, "I'm not exactly a fairy, no." The child's face lost a bit of its shine and that wouldn't do, to tarnish the only bright thing in this dismal, dark world, "But my grandfather… He used to tell stories about fairies. He said that his great-great-grandfather captured a fairy and made her his wife. So I suppose that would make me at least _part_ -fairy."

The girl's face broke into the most triumphant grin and she turned back to the room at large.

"Did you hear, Sigrid? I _told_ you they were fairies, I said!"

"Yes, Tilda-love, I heard."

Another girl, older, her childhood nearly lost, with golden hair and the same gray eyes, smiled indulgently as one only smiles when one's sibling is being particularly difficult. Brie knew the look like the back of her own hand. A boy stood close by, the same eyes rolling in his head, his childhood also fading from his face, but still somehow younger than the elder of his sisters. Bard's children. She was in Bard's house, but there seemed to be no sign of the bargeman. The dwarves were settled in little groups about a large room that appeared to serve as kitchen, dining, and sitting room all in one. She saw Bilbo, wrapped in a blanket, standing near a window. He caught her eye and smiled wanly, a smile she returned in kind. She was so tired…

She jerked and jumped to her feet, gripping her woolen blanket about her shivering shoulders. They still weren't safe. She couldn't go to sleep. She couldn't face what might lurk there, in the dark behind her eyelids. Not until they were safe. Not until they were-

Bard stomped back into the house and tossed a dripping bundle of canvas onto the table. The dwarves gathered around and Brie joined them, sidling in between Bofur and Nori, the latter of which put his arm around her and squeezed. Brie took the comfort gladly, feeling tears start to burn at the back of her throat. She swallowed.

Bard untied the cords holding the bundle together and rolled it open on the table. An assortment of odds and ends clattered loose of the canvas to lay unimpressively dull in the dim light. She could almost feel the tension in the dwarves around her. A few of them picked up the instruments and began to examine them tentatively.

"What is this?" Thorin asked, hold a tri-pointed instrument aloft, his eyes narrowed.

"A pike hook," Bard answered, though Brie doubted very much that was the question Thorin had meant, "Made from an old harpoon."

"And this?" Kili held a hammer-like object in his hand and it was only then that Brie noticed how pale he still looked. Should he look that pale? The others didn't.

"A crowbill, we call it, fashioned from a smithy's hammer," Bard explained, "It's heavy in hand, I grant, but in defense of your life, these will serve you better than none."

The tension was getting thicker. Brie could see it on the others faces. Nori's arm around her tightened.

"We paid you for _weapons_..."

"Swords and axes!"

"It's a joke!"

Brie thought that Bard tried to explain, but it was no good. The dwarves' grumbling grew louder, more pronounced, and Brie feared there might be a brawl brewing. The only one who didn't seem to have anything to say was Thorin. He continued to examine the weapons, each in turn, his eyes angry, but his jaw locked tight. Brie watched Thorin as the other dwarves jostled around her.

"Thorin," Balin's voice, the only reasonable voice Brie could hear, carried over the others, but barely, "Why not take what's been offered and go? I've made do with less; so have you. I say-"

"No."

The dwarves fell silent. Bard was silent. Thorin examined the item in his hand (a stick with a chain and a chipped blade at the end of it), then set it firmly on the table. His hand lay there, fingers curling as if they might dig into the solid wood.

"No," he repeated, more firmly, "I will not skulk about this town like some common criminal, begging for scraps." His hand formed a fist and his knuckles went white, "Never again."

He paused a moment, took a breath, and then straightened his coat sharply.

"I will see the Master."

And with that, he turned and stalked out of the house, before anyone could stop him. There was a shocked pause and then the entire company was tripping over themselves to follow, Brie and Bilbo caught up and pulled along in the melee, Bard shouting out the door after them.

"The Master won't see you! You'll be thrown out of town before you're granted an audience!"

But the dwarves either didn't hear or didn't want to. Thorin never wavered, striding along the boardwalks with purpose and surety, as if he already had the Master's permission to be there. Dwalin took up the flank on his left, Balin on his right, the rest of the group bunched up in a knot behind them, trying not to trip over one another. Brie stumbled and tried to keep her feet, but she was so tired and it felt as if they walked for ages. People stared, but no one tried to stop them. She didn't blame them. Thorin looked as unstoppable as the wind.

Finally, the group emptied into a courtyard, dominated by a large statue of a fat, balding man in the center, and an elaborate (if rundown) house on the far side. It was toward this house and its steps that Thorin marched and it was only as the group followed and began to fill up the square that Brie realized they had gathered a few more than dwarves to their party. The bedraggled people of Laketown spilled into the courtyard, whispering, pointing, lining the square's perimeter. Thorin paid them no more notice than if they had been flies. He mounted the steps with deliberate gravity, Balin and Dwalin still at his side. He paused at the large double doors, then lifted a fist and pounded thrice. The thuds sounded hollow and thick, and the crowd fell into a hush of anticipation. There was no answer. Thorin waited a moment, and then pounded again. This time the door opened and a man stuck his head out, his black hair hanging in strings about his wan face. He scowled down at the three dwarves.

"Who are you and what do you want?" he slurred, and Brie recognized his voice as if from a dream, though she could not place his face.

Thorin's posture never wavered and his voice carried so that all in the courtyard could hear.

"I wish to speak to the Master of the Lake."

"He's not receiving visitors," the man sneered, "And you're trespassing. Guards!" The second door swung open and a few armed men filed out. "Take this rabble and toss 'em out."

The guards looked about to obey but then hesitated. Dwalin had stepped forward, in a crouch, and even without weapons, Brie knew that the dwarf was an intimidating fellow. Thorin's voice rang out again.

"Your Master _will_ speak with me," he said, "For I am Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King under the Lonely Mountain, and I have come to take back what is mine!"

Brie dimly heard the murmur of the crowd, but it sounded far away. Thorin surveyed the square and it seemed he was glowing in the light of the setting sun. He was calm, assured, and every inch the king Brie knew him to be.

Another man appeared at the door, shrugging into a tattered robe and squinting down at the dwarves on the doorstep.

"Who is this?" he asked, sourly, "What do you want?"

"We are the dwarves of Erebor," Thorin said, "And we have come to reclaim our homeland."

The crowd murmured again, louder this time, eagerly. Thorin turned to them, addressed them from the steps of the house with a voice that carried like sparks upon a cold wind.

"I remember this town," he said, "And the great days of old. Fleets of boats lay at harbor, filled with silks and fine gems. This was no forsaken town on a lake! This was the center of all trade in the North. And I would see those days return! I would relight the great forges of the dwarves and send wealth and riches flowing once more from the halls of Erebor!"

The crowd cheered and Brie thought she saw the flicker of a smirk light his face. She shivered and Bilbo pulled her closer to him. She leaned into her brother and shut her eyes…

She nearly tripped over the doorstep and it jostled her back to… it wasn't wakefulness, exactly, because she hadn't been asleep. She furrowed her brow and tried to remember… There had been a disagreement. Bard had been there. Thorin had won the argument, of course, how could he not, stubborn King under the thrice-cursed Mountain, and now they were… where? She pulled her blanket closer and looked about as Bilbo guided her through the doorway of the house: dusty furniture, Oin and Gloin gathered about a hearth that looked as if it hadn't seen flames in over an Age, stairs that looked worn but felt solid enough under her feet.

She didn't know how long they climbed, but they passed at least one landing before they reached the top. The room wasn't large. The roof sloped so that it might have been uncomfortable for a Man-sized person, but that didn't bother the hobbits in the least. It made things almost… cozy. A bit like home. There was a little round window looking out on the square (where the people of Laketown were still cheering and singing snatches of song), a small table and two chairs that looked dusty and disused, and a bed with two side tables, also dusty, the bed curtains looking in serious need of a good beating and the bedcovers in need of…

She jerked to a sudden halt as she realized Bilbo was leading her in the direction of the bed, locking her legs and shaking her head.

"No, I'm alright, I'm…" she began, but Bilbo frowned at her, and didn't let her finish.

"Brie, we're safe," he said, pushing her hair back from her face and forcing her to look at him, "For the first time in who knows how long, we are _safe_."

Brie frowned at him, and then shook her head, trying to clear the cobwebs.

"Safe?" she whispered, trying the word out on her tongue. It felt strange and unnatural.

"And I, personally, am exhausted," Bilbo added, leading her once more toward the bed, "I can't remember the last time I had a proper lie-down. It wasn't easy, you know, sneaking about in that palace for days, trying to find you. I think we all deserve a good long rest. Everything will look brighter in the morning, you know."

Brie looked at her brother then, really _looked_ at him, and she could see the tired circles under his eyes, the wild state of his hair, and how thin he had become. And she felt very selfish, suddenly, selfish for bringing him all this way, for causing him all this exhaustion and heartache. She reached out and touched his cheek, reminding herself that he was real.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice heavy and strained, "You're right. We should lie down."

He smiled, a weary thing, but pleased, and they crawled up onto the large bed, curled up under Brie's wool blanket. She would lie here, just for a moment, just until Bilbo drifted off to sleep and then she would get up. She couldn't go to sleep, she just _couldn't,_ couldn't face… couldn't face…

 _The snow came. And the ice. And the blood._

* * *

The scream ripped through the house and brought Thorin from the edges of sleep with a painful jerk. He was on his feet and running before the second scream sounded, shorter yet somehow sharper, taking the stairs two at a time to the room at the top of the house, the wood creaking ominously as the clatter of more dwarven feet followed after him. He slammed into the hobbits' room, ready for battle, for…

Bilbo looked up with wide-eyed terror from where he tried to restrain his sister, thrashing about on the bed and shrieking, her face twisted in pain and terror.

"I can't wake her!" the hobbit said, panic-stricken and desperate, "I… I can't wake her, Thorin!"

"Out of the way, let me through, move it you lugs!"

Oin shouldered his way through the group of dwarves crowding the doorway and hurried to the bedside.

"That's it, lad, hold her, best you can," the healer said in his gruff tone, examining his thrashing patient with surprising tenderness and tenacity in equal measure. It felt to Thorin like an eternity before he spoke again, pointing to Nori (and Thorin had not even noticed the other dwarf crowding in at his side, his face so pale it was nearly gray).

"You: water and a clean towel." Nori rushed to obey, the clatter of his footfalls fading as Oin pointed to Gloin. "Fetch me my bag. Dori, have you any non-medicinal tea leaves left? I don't want to mix ingredients."

"I've some chamomile if you think it could help."

"Can't hurt." As Dori turned to follow Gloin, Oin shouted after him, "See if you can't find some ginger to throw in with it!"

"What's the matter with her?" Thorin asked, and _Mahal_ , he had not meant to sound so sharp, but she was there, she was in _pain_ and there was nothing he could do…

"Nightmare draught," Oin said, his voice thick with loathing, "The _shukû khathuzhaz_ gave the lass a nightmare draught. I feared it back in the dungeons, but I thought it'd have worn off by now. Who knows how strong they brewed it, or how much they gave her."

Briallen shrieked and writhed on the bed, the blanket tangling in her feet, her fingers fisted in her hair. Her brother tried to steady her, to soothe her, but she only shrieked again, and then there was a word in the whimpering aftermath, a name.

"No, no please, not Thorin, not Thorin, please..."

He was beside her then, with no memory of having moved, but he was closer, he had stepped forward and was reaching.

" _Khul, nanginguh, khul_ ," he murmured, barely aware of the words, knowing only that she called for him, that somehow some part of him was causing her pain and he could not bear it.

She quieted slightly at the sound of his words, but she still tossed and whimpered, restless, haunted. He sank to the edge of the bed, taking her hand, so small, so _strong_ , he could remember this hand nearly unhorsing him on the road out of Hobbiton, could see it set to the bow string, arrow poised, with river ice in her veins.

"Golden slumber kiss your eyes..."

The song came to his lips without thought, so often had he heard it around campfires in the dark. It sounded strange in his deep resonant bass, a voice meant for underground caverns and dwarven chants, nothing like her sweet soprano or Nori's flowing tenor.

"...smiles await you when you rise..."

Her rustling quieted. Her breathing evened. Her brow was still furrowed, but she was no longer whimpering, no longer in pain.

"...sleep, my darling, don't you cry..."

She sighed and relaxed her tense muscles, her face turned toward him as he brushed back the sweat-damp curls, his fingers lingering for only a moment on her pale cheek.

"...I will sing a lullaby."

She was asleep. Truly asleep, not the drug-induced nightmare of the thrice-cursed elven draught. Her exhaustion had finally taken her and she was sleeping, not peacefully, but not in pain. _Mahal_ , he had brought her so much pain...

"Thorin..."

He blinked. The others were watching him, Oin and Nori and Dwalin, worst of all _Dwalin_ , with his stoic expression and flickering eyes. He dropped his gaze back to the sleeping hobbit.

"Get some sleep," he said, his voice far less commanding when softened with gentle worry, "All of you. I will stay with her." He looked up into the wide eyes of Bilbo Baggins, brave Bilbo who would give everything for his sister and his friends. "With your permission, Mr. Baggins."

Bilbo nodded and cleared his throat.

"Of course," he said, scrambling off of the bed, "Of course, Thorin, I just want, I only want..."

"We know, Bilbo," Ori said, slipping an arm around the hobbit's shoulders, "Let's go downstairs and make some tea, it'll be alright."

Ori gave Thorin a questioning look, and Thorin nodded gratefully to him. Bilbo deserved the comfort of his friends, a moment's peace after all he'd had to endure for their sakes. Thorin had the feeling he would never be able to repay the hobbit for everything he had done for them. Forever in debt…

Dori left a pot of tea on the bedside table and Oin checked the girl's pulse one more time, murmuring quiet instructions before withdrawing. Thorin carefully untangled a quilt from about her feet and draped it over her small, shivering form.

"And I thought _I'd_ caught a raw deal."

He looked up. Everyone else had gone, but Dwalin was still standing in the doorway, arms folded, _seeing_ far more than Thorin would like, as he always did.

"What are you gonna do now, King Under the Mountain?" Dwalin asked, a bitter taste to his words.

Thorin frowned and turned away, brushing another stray curl back from Briallen's brow. She sighed and curled up more tightly under the quilt.

"What I set out to do," Thorin murmured, "Nothing more."

Dwalin snorted. Thorin glared at him. Dwalin rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, and when you're done _lying_ to yourself, you can come talk to me," he said, turning away and mumbling under his breath,"We can commiserate over a pint, or ten."

Thorin waited for Dwalin's stomping footfalls to fade and disappear down the stairs. Then he turned and tucked the blanket more snugly about the hobbit, brushing a hand through her tangled curls and humming bars of the lullaby that had so often lulled him to sleep on dark nights.

* * *

 **Khuzdul Translations:**

 _shukû khathuzhaz-_ elven cowards (literally: cowards of elf origins)

 _khul-_ peace

 _Nanginguh-_ my flower


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N:** A couple of warnings before we get started: First, this is a pretty long chapter, especially compared to the last few chapters. I mean, I've posted longer, but I thought it was worth mentioning :) Second, there is a TON of Khuzdul in this chapter. I feel like this is the place to mention that I have very little idea what I'm doing when it comes to Khuzdul grammar. I know there are rules (via the Dwarrow Scholar) and I have tried to read up on them, but frankly there is a lot of material and I'm a little bit lazy. There's a reason I've been avoiding putting very much of Bifur in this fic, but I got an idea and… it couldn't be avoided (special thanks to Sylvan, this is all your fault and I love it ;P). All that to say, I did my best, but if there are any Khuzdul experts in the house and you see something I've gotten eye-searingly wrong, please feel free to correct me!

I love you guys so much! Let's get on with this thing!

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Four**

Brie woke up incredibly thirsty and with the sun in her eyes. She made a small noise and scrunched up under the warm blanket, turning her face down into the musty pillow to escape the light filtering through her eyelids. A large, warm hand pressed to her cheek, then her brow.

"There, there, sweet, it's alright. You're alright now."

Brie reached up to shade her eyes and blinked. The rays of the sun threw the dwarf's face into shadow, but she would recognize that voice anywhere.

"Nori?"

He got up and pulled the curtains over the small window, then came back to help her sit up in bed. She had a pounding headache, as if she'd drank to much of Holman Greenhand's terrible homebrew the night before. She didn't remember having anything, though. Maybe it was just because she was so thirsty. Nori reached to pour her a cup of tea from the pot on the nightstand, and she noticed that her friend looked almost as terrible as she felt. He was still in the clothes he'd been wearing yesterday, his hair wild and unkempt, his face pale with dark circles beneath his red-rimmed eyes.

"Nori," Brie rasped, putting a hand on his arm, "Oh my darling, what's happened? Is it your brothers? Are Ori and Dori alright?"

Nori froze in place, his hand resting on the teapot, his eyes shut and his jaw clenched. He swallowed.

"It's not my brothers," he answered finally, but his voice was heavy, "Ori and Dori are fine."

"Then what is it?" Brie asked, baffled and a little bit frightened, "Nori... why are you crying?"

Nori huffed a laugh.

" _Lu'katûb duzi,_ " he whispered, letting out a shaky breath and wiping at his face with the back of his hand, " _Mahal,_ sometimes I forget…"

Brie was on the verge of gently chastising him for the Khuzdul he _knew_ she couldn't understand, when he sniffed and pressed the steaming cup of tea into her hand with a smile.

"It's nothing, sweet," he said, "Nothing bad. I'm just… You really worried us for a bit, that's all."

Brie opened her mouth to reply… and stopped. Oh. It was her _._ _She_ had done something to make Nori cry. She frowned and tried to remember. What could have happened that would worry him so? She had only been sleeping after all.

"Finally got Bilbo to lay down about an hour before dawn," Nori said, anticipating questions before she could voice them, "Figure I'll give him an hour or two before I let him know you've recovered. Thorin would have stayed, but-"

"Thorin?"

Nori blinked at her, as if surprised at her query.

"Aye, sweet," he said, his brow furrowing in contemplation, "Do you…? What do you remember of last night, exactly?"

Brie cradled her teacup in her hands and settled back to think. There had been a commotion in the courtyard. They had come to the house. Bilbo had convinced her to lie down. She hadn't wanted to sleep, but somehow sleep had crept up on her unawares. Then there was snow… and fire… and blood…

 _Khul, nanginguh… Sleep, my darling, don't you cry…_

She shuddered and sipped her tea, shaking her head.

"Not much. There were… dreams, but I…" Nori flinched, and suddenly everything fell into place. "Oh… It was bad, wasn't it?"

Nori dropped his eyes, rubbed the back of his neck.

"We still don't know _exactly_ what those…" His fists clenched and he looked to be biting his tongue. "Exactly what they gave you in the dungeons. Some kind of draught, drags up the worst things you can imagine and mixes them up with your fears and your nightmares. Oin seems to think the worst has passed now, but… Whatever you feared, sweet, it was…"

He shut his eyes and turned his face away for a moment. Brie stared into her cup and said nothing. What could she say? It was foolishness, _fauntling_ stuff, to be afraid of nightmares. Weakness that she couldn't afford…

"Whatever it was, it scared the lot of us nearly to death. Thorin stayed until Balin came up and dragged him away to some meeting or other."

Brie flinched and gripped her cup a bit tighter.

"I didn't mean to scare anyone," she said quietly, "It was only dreams. It wasn't real."

Nori's hands covered hers.

"It was real to _you_ , sweet," he said, "That's what's important. You should have said-"

"Nori, dear."

They both turned to Dori's firm, but gentle voice. He was standing in the doorway with a steaming kettle and his pouch of tea leaves.

"I think Ori has something he wants to discuss with you downstairs, if you could spare a moment," he said, with a smile for Brie, "I'll stay with Miss Baggins for now."

"I'm fine," Brie said, sitting up a bit straighter on the bed and trying to look as well as possible, but Dori didn't budge.

Nori got up and trudged by his older brother, hands stuffed in his pockets as if he were sulking. Dori waited until his footsteps had faded down the stairs before he finally approached, checking the teapot and filling it with hot water and a bundle of leaves from his pouch.

"There now, that should be ready in a trice," he said, turning to plump up the pillows at Brie's back, "Oin should be up in a moment to perform an examination, but you seem to be alright now."

"I _am_ alright," Brie insisted stubbornly.

Dori smiled indulgently down at her, smoothing back her hair.

"You'll forgive us, Miss Baggins, if we don't simply take you at your _word_ this time," he said, smile still fixed in place, but his tone stern, "We were all quite beside ourselves, and a little reassurance is certainly in order. I thought I'd _never_ get Nori to stop pacing, the lad didn't sleep a wink."

Brie opened her mouth to protest, but swallowed it back. Nori. An incredible guilt stole over her when she thought of his haggard face, his rumpled appearance, his reddened eyes. She was being foolish, _had been_ foolish, too wrapped up in proving in her own worth to realize that by hurting herself, she was also hurting the ones that cared about her most. It was… selfish. She had been selfish to think this only concerned her own well-being. She needed to be stronger. And she needed to prove to the others, _especially_ Thorin, that she was willing to work to mend whatever had broken inside of her. Because if she did not…

A sleep-mussed Bilbo burst into the room and flung himself at her, gripping her tight one moment and shaking her by the shoulders the next, admonishing her through shakey, tear-choked words about her idiocy before flinging his arms around her again and whispering muffled worries into her shoulder. Brie held him, but her eye was fixed on the gray silhouette of the mountain in the distance. And she vowed that Bilbo would not go into that mountain alone. Not if she had legs to walk on.

* * *

Once Dori was done fussing, and Oin was done examining, and Bilbo was done fretting, it was determined (mostly by Brie herself) that it would do her a world of good to actually get out of bed. She made her way downstairs, to the eternal fussing and fretting and examining of the rest of the Company, barring Thorin (who was still in meetings with the Master of Laketown) and the younger two Ri brothers (whom no one seemed to have seen since the morning). She settled into a chair by the fire Gloin built up in the hearth, Balin plumped up an array of pillows for her to nestle in, and Bombur presented her with a steaming bowl of soup. Bofur provided entertainment in the form of jokes and stories, while Dwalin made a valiant and surprisingly successful attempt to untangle and rebraid her hair, and all in all, they passed a very pleasant afternoon.

No one else mentioned the nightmares, of course, but as the light faded from the windows of the old house, Bofur's jokes began to fall flat and a restless sort of silence settled over everyone else. Brie nursed a cup of tea and tried not to notice the side-long glances she received and the churning in her stomach. There was a flutter of shadow at the corner of her eye and she jumped, along with at least three dwarves. It was just a curtain, fluttering in the breeze off the water.

"Well," Bilbo said, standing and stretching pointedly, "I think that's quite enough for one day. I'm off to bed. Coming Brie?"

She looked up at her brother, at the dark circles beneath his eyes and the lines that now crossed his face, lines that had not been there a few months ago. She was tired (more tired than she thought she had any right to be), but she managed a smile and shook her head.

"You go ahead," she said, settling deeper into her cushions, "I'll be up in a moment."

Bilbo looked about to insist, but then seemed to think better of it. He gave her an uneasy look, but turned and trudged up the stairs without her. It wasn't long before the dwarves began to follow his example, taking their leave with quiet mutters. Nori and Ori both came in late in the evening but neither seemed in the mood for conversation and, after Nori checked to be sure that Brie was well and not in need of anything, they both clattered up the stairs together, speaking quietly in Khuzdul. Brie sighed and leaned back in her chair again, her tea now cold, staring into the fire. Her eyes never drooped. She ignored the flitting shadows at the corners of her eye.

 _It isn't real… 'It was real to you, sweet…'_

" _Asti aglukhat._ "

Brie blinked and sat up. Bifur was sitting in the shadows by the hearth, a bit of wood in one hand, his carving knife in the other, staring at her intently. Brie looked around. There was no one else in the sitting room. She adjusted her mug in her lap to give her nerves time to settle, then looked up again. Bifur was still watching her intently.

" _Zailûthikîl,_ " he said, tapping the axe in his head with his knife and then pointing it at her, " _Kurdûthikîl._ " He tapped his breast above his heart, and pointed the knife at her again, grinning a wide, toothy grin that Brie could not help returning, albeit tentatively. She wasn't quite sure what he was trying to say to her, but it was important. She wished fervently that she could understand.

"My mind?" she guessed, "And my heart?"

" _Thiklul,"_ he said, nodding and tapping his knife on the axe-head again, making a ringing sound on the metal.

"Hard?"

He shrugged, but then shook his head, still grinning, as if he was enjoying the guessing game. Brie furrowed her brow and tried to think. Something to do with metal, but not hard…

"Strong?"

He nodded and winked at her. Brie's sense of accomplishment at deciphering his meaning quickly wilted as she absorbed the implication of his words.

"But what if I'm not strong enough?" she whispered, sinking deeper into the chair and gazing into the fire, 'I don't want to frighten anyone again. There's so much… so much to fear. They shouldn't fear for me too."

A bit of shadow caught her off guard and she jumped again. It was just a flicker of firelight. Bifur's brow furrowed in concentration, but finally he shook his head in frustration and spread his hands.

" _Adjân duzi, mimelhekhinh._ "

Brie recognized that last word. Dwalin had used it, in jest, their first night in Beorn's house. But she still didn't know what it meant. She sighed in equal frustration and sat back in her chair.

" _Azluf_ ," Bifur said, leaning his head onto his hand and shutting his eyes and then pointing at her again, " _Azluf. Atradabi."_ He pointed at his own eyes and then around the room.

Brie smiled and he returned it, picking up his whittling and humming a tune to himself as he began meticulously shaving bits of wood from whatever he was carving. Brie settled back in her chair and stared into the fire once more, the lids of her eyes finally starting to feel heavy.

* * *

Thorin stomped into the house at a Mahal-cursed hour and went straight to the kitchen, in search of ale and the largest cup he could find. The Master was a brainless oaf with no more sense than _Sulladad_ gave an elf! He had spent an entire day with the man and gotten absolutely _nowhere_. What he had thought might take the better part of the morning, now looked as if it were going to take _days_ , days they couldn't afford to waste. The winds were getting chillier by the hour and he could _feel_ Durin's Day approaching like a black shadow. And here he was, stuck listening to the simpering wheedles of an oil-slicked _'utnubinshlâs!_ He slammed the cup down on the table and reached for the ale jug.

"Shh!"

Thorin jerked at the noise and whirled to see Bifur scowling at him from the fireside, one finger to his lips.

" _Sabkanthmî diya!_ "

Thorin froze in place. Her… You'll wake _her…_

Bifur pointed to a blanket folded on the other side of the hearth and then at the high-backed chair. Thorin gingerly sat down the jug and approached, now wishing fervently that he'd removed his boots. Each footstep sounded like a boulder falling on the rickety wooden floor. He gathered the blanket and turned toward the chair. Briallen was nestled amongst an inordinate amount of pillows, fingers curled around a mug containing the last, cold dregs of her tea. Her brow was furrowed in her sleep, but she wasn't screaming. _Muhdahûd_ , at least there was that.

He slipped the mug from her hands and she stirred, making a small sound in her throat. His chest clenched and he waited for her to settle again before he draped the wool blanket over her, tucking it carefully around her shoulders.

" _Zaznadâl_ ," Bifur muttered, " _'Uglakh, ini tadarrani._ "

"We don't have time," Thorin murmured, brushing back a strand of hair and tucking it into the knot of braids behind her ear, "And we need her."

He saw Bifur glance up from his work, but he did not meet the older dwarf's sharp gaze. He saw him shake his head and look back down at his work.

" _Khuluk bundukeshekh lalkhith…"_

Thorin caught himself smiling at that. It had been a long time since anyone had called him 'young' in any form, even in insult.

" _Kurdûbulum khuzdugamil,"_ he rumbled in response, giving him a fond smile. Bifur only shrugged good-naturedly.

" _Bal kana._ "

"I can stay…" Thorin began, but Bifur was already shaking his head.

" _Ignig_ ," he said, looking up from his carving to give Thorin a pointed look, " _Idkhit. Nangingzu nusus_."

Thorin flinched and straightened. He had slipped. He had slipped far too many times. He could not afford to keep slipping, not when they were so close to the mountain, to… the end. He turned away from the sleeping hobbit and headed for the stairs.

"Wake me if anything changes," he said, his voice sharp in the stillness of the room. He did not turn to see if Bifur responded, but he could feel the dwarf's eyes on him, long after he had gone to his room and shut the door.

* * *

Nori supposed he shouldn't have been surprised Ori felt the same way he did. The littlest Ri (though not so little anymore, _Mahal_ , how the boy had grown. It made Nori feel inescapably old) was much more like their open-minded, loving mother than either of his older brothers ever could be. And hadn't he seen how much Bilbo's friendship meant to Ori, how he had found a kindred spirit in the hobbit's love of books and history, in their mutual desire to share knowledge and their equally strong desire to prove their worth on this quest. In truth, the two had more in common than did Nori and Brie, but Nori felt no less strongly for her than Ori did for Bilbo.

Nori was an idiot. He could see that now. It was so obvious, plain as day, now that he thought about it. He could see it in everything, Beorn's house, Rivendell, _Mahal,_ hadn't he known his own heart as far back as Bag End? When she had caught him at his old tricks and, despite reddened eyes and flustered manners, only scolded him mildly and put him to work? Hadn't he known _then_ that Briallen Baggins was special? 'A sure bet', he had called her, and he had been right, _proven_ right again and again, until everyone could see what he had seen from the moment he'd laid eyes on her.

Some part of him had known at the base of the Misty Mountains, when he had been sure he was going to lose everything… If he had addressed the matter _then_ , maybe they could have avoided some of this, the pain and the fear, the never-ending _fear_ that seemed to plague every step of this Mahal-forsaken venture. Perhaps he could have helped her. Perhaps he could have kept her safe.

 _Mahal,_ the screaming… The echoes of her terrible screams would haunt him to the end of his days.

But Brie was better now. Oin had declared the course of the poison run out and she was sleeping again, though fitfully and in odd places. Her eyes did not glaze over as they had before, and she smiled with more surety. It was going to be alright. At least, that's what Nori kept telling himself. But in the not-quite-distance, the mountain loomed and weighed heavy on his mind, on his… It wouldn't do. And it was an unexpected relief to know that Ori felt the same way. It wouldn't do, to send their hobbits into the mountain with nothing more binding them than paper and ink. They needed more, _deserved_ more.

But now there were… _complications_ , and weren't there always? Had they done this at any time before Mirkwood (the name left a stale taste on his tongue) Dori would have been replete with ribbons, earned honestly and given freely. But all their things now lay somewhere in the dark depths of the elven palace, well beyond their reach. And though Nori was indeed a thief with no plans for reform, even _he_ felt a twinge of unease at the thought of doing something like this with stolen goods. These things, _important_ things, should be started on the right foot, or as right as it could be.

And so the younger Ri brothers went to work. Ori's skills as a scribe were well sought after (though he was still considered a novice), and he was well paid for his efforts. But Nori was forced to swallow his pride and take up needle and thread, as he used to when they were little more than newly orphaned dwarflings, before he'd discovered that he possessed sticky fingers and a "flexible" moral code. Dori had taught him his craft as well as he'd been able (though they had both quickly realized that his true _omdit_ tended more toward the musical, a gift that served well to soothe baby Ori's fitful sleep, but did little to put food on the table), and though his work lacked the grace and finesse of a true craftsman, it was sturdy and true, and many were willing to pay for dwarven work that would last.

It took the better part of two days, working in secret, before they finally brought the matter to Dori. It was not exactly what might be considered _conventional_ , what they proposed to do. In fact, there was no known precedent for it at all. It was completely unheard of, and would probably cause a great deal of scandal when word got out in the dwarven community. So Nori was understandably shocked when stiff, proper Dori not only agreed with his brothers, but agreed _emphatically_ , with the sort of enthusiasm he normally reserved for tea leaves and judging Nori's life choices.

Together, the three of them scoured the Laketown marketplace for precisely what they needed, able to be choosy with material and shade, as was befitting what they endeavored to do. They found what they needed. There was only one thing left. In the spirit of fairness and good-will, Ori went to Bofur.

In the spirit of self-preservation, Nori went to Thorin.

* * *

Thorin was exhausted. The last three days of negotiations had been tedious at best, downright _ludicrous_ at worst, and today had been one of the worse days. But it was done now. They were on their way, or would be tomorrow morning. Perhaps, once they were out of that house, away from the creaking boards and the memories of screams, he would start sleeping again.

He mounted the steps and passed the threshold, intent on trying to catch a few hours of rest (maybe not sleep, but _rest_ at least) before the celebrations due to begin in a few hours, at the Master's insistence. Thorin would have much rathered that they all turned in early, so as to be well rested for the last (and potentially the most dangerous) leg of their journey, but alas, this had been a non-negotiable point. 'A boost to morale' the Master had called it. A boost to the ego, Thorin thought might be closer to the truth.

Unfortunately, his way was barred by a stiff figure with firmly planted feet and Thorin only just barely managed to halt before he plowed straight into him. Nori's arms were crossed and his brow was furrowed, as if there was something of great importance on his mind. It was uncharacteristic of him, and Thorin's first, panicked thought was that something had happened to Briallen. But... No, that couldn't be it. Nori would be frantic if anything truly terrible had happened. Thorin forced his shoulders to relax and tried to ignore the residual tightness in his chest from the fleeting moment of weakness.

"What is it, Nori?" he asked, his fatigue bleeding into his voice.

Nori shifted from foot to foot and his jaw clenched. Considering. Thorin waited, despite his desire to take the dwarf by the shoulders and shake him until he just _spit out_ whatever he was going to say. It couldn't be as bad as all that…

"We want to give the Baggins twins our colors."

Thorin blinked and stuffed down the urge to throttle the thief where he stood. He blinked again, trying to think through the cloud of exhaustion, frustration, and (yes, he would admit it, if only to himself) the _fear_ that threatened to claw through his chest at the mere thought of Briallen Baggins with _any_ colors in her hair that were not… No. That could never be. It was foolishness, _selfishness_. And besides, he was missing something, something _important…_ What had Nori said? _We…?_

" _Kurdu-baraf,_ " he sighed, a bit of the tension bleeding out of him as he said the word, "You wish to take the Bagginses into your clan."

Nori let out a breath he had obviously been holding and nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets, an attempt to conceal the fact that he had obviously been worried.

"Dori approves?" Thorin asked.

"Dori helped pick the ribbon."

Thorin nodded, and rubbed the bridge of his nose, still feeling as if he were missing something. After all, Nori didn't _have_ to tell him this, any of it. Traditionally, what a family chose to do within its own clan was none of anyone's business, not even the king to which that clan had sworn loyalty.

"So then why?" he asked, only realizing a moment after he'd said it that he was asking a question in response to an internal line of thought. He was so tired. "Why tell me what you have already decided? What difference does it make?"

Nori gave him a look. A pointed, no-nonsense, 'don't-trick-the-trickster' sort of look that made Thorin wish he had a jail cell to toss him in. He was sure he could come up with some sort of crime to charge him with…

"Ori's speaking to Bofur," Nori answered, his hazel eyes still piercing deeper than Thorin would have liked, "We thought it only fair."

Bofur… the miner, the joke-smith... and the member of his Company who was inarguably, head-over-heels, in love with Bilbo. Thorin felt a lump form in his throat but he swallowed and waved the thief away, turning toward the stairs.

"Do as you like," he grumbled, "It makes no difference to me."

He wasn't sure if it was Nori muttering under his breath, or if it was merely his mind whispering in his ear, but either way he distinctly heard one word echo back to him:

 _Ushrag… Liar..._

* * *

Brie shifted from foot to foot in the stuffy hall and her newly beribboned braid caught her off-guard, swinging just out of the corner of her eye. She caught the loose braid and ran the silk absently between her fingers. Lavender silk. The rest of the ribbons were gathered in a mass of braids atop her head, but Nori had insisted this one swing free. He wore his own lavender braided into his hair and beard tonight, as did Dori and Ori and Bilbo. It was part of the declaration, a claiming and acceptance of claim. _Kurdu-baraf_ , Dori had called it, _heart-family_ , but the truth was Brie still wasn't entirely sure what had happened. The only word she seemed to have for it in the Common Tongue was ' _adopted'._ She and Bilbo had been adopted by the Ri clan, brought into their family and claimed as their own. Though Brie wasn't sure she completely understood the implications, she could not help but appreciate the sentiment. It had been a long time since she and Bilbo had been accepted as part of a family.

She resisted the urge to tuck the braid back behind her ear by clasping her hands together and her feet shifted uneasily again beneath her. The room really was unbearably hot.

"He was right, you know."

Brie jumped and stifled a squeak. She hadn't even noticed Dwalin come up beside her, intimidating as always, arms crossed over his chest, frowning down at her. He reached out and tugged the loose braid gently between two fingers.

"Brings out your eyes."

Brie let out a huff of relief and grinned, feeling a blush start to creep across her cheeks.

"Why, Mr. Dwalin," she said, hands on hips in mock indignation, "I'm surprised at you! No misguided attempts to defend my honor? I must be disreputable indeed!"

To her surprise, Dwalin returned her smile.

"Thief can't steal what's given freely," he said, eyes wandering across the crowded hall, "Imagine it's probably the only decent thing he's done in his whole life."

Brie followed his eyes and caught Nori tugging playfully on one of Ori's braids, laughing as Ori batted him away. She smiled.

"Can't fault him for taste, can we, Dwalin?" she said softly, partly in play, but not all.

Dwalin didn't answer. The sound of a tuning fiddle and a flute twittered from a corner and there was an appreciative roar from the Master's guests, flooding toward the center of the room in preparation of what looked to be an awfully rowdy dance.

"Join me for a turn, Miss Baggins of Ri?" Dwalin asked his lips twitching and his eyes twinkling.

Brie returned his smile, but stepped back from the crowd.

"Oh, I think not, Mr. Dwalin," she said, eyeing the Big People with no little amount of trepidation, "Perhaps later, when things have quieted a bit."

Dwalin gave the crowd his own disapproving look and seemed about to say something himself, when the instruments finally struck a resounding chord and music poured forth in a jaunty whirl that took the crowd on a wild spin. In less than half a moment, Nori whirled by, threw a wink in Brie's direction, then grabbed Dwalin by the arm and swung him into the crowd of dancers, laughing as the larger dwarf stumbled before regaining his bearings and throwing himself into the dance with all the scowling determination of a general determined to win the day's battle. Brie smiled and, in the general tumult, managed to slip out onto one of the small balconies overlooking the water.

The evening air was cool against her flushed skin, ruffling the faded skirt around her ankles. The dress wasn't much, plain brown wool, but it had been all that could be scrounged up on short notice. Clothes for the children of Men were much more proportionately fitting for her size than elf-clothes, so that made things easier, and Dori had superior skill with needle and thread. Brie took in a long breath and shut her eyes, letting the night air close in on her, the smell of the lake and the sound of the water lapping against the plank walkways. The night was calm. Peaceful. Happy. She worked at committing the details to memory, something to keep, to take with her into the mountain...

"What are you doing out here?"

Her heart thumped painfully against her ribs. She could feel Thorin's warmth at her elbow even before she turned toward his voice. He looked tired. Brie was taken aback by this, and she realized she had actually seen very little of Thorin since they'd arrived in Laketown. He had been stuck in one meeting after another with the Master and his cabinet of advisers and government officials from dawn until well after dark for the past three days, and it was only now that she was seeing the results of what must have been a tedious and frustrating experience. Brie did not care for the Master one bit, and she had only seen him from a distance. She could just imagine the horror of being stuck in a room with him, day after day.

In answer to his question, Brie gestured back toward the hall, where the music was reaching a fever-pitch and the boards rattled with the force of the dance.

"I didn't wish to be trampled underfoot," she said, "A decent-sized person could get lost in that rabble."

Thorin glanced back toward the party and frowned.

"It isn't the way I would have chosen to spend our last evening here," he said, "But I think, in this one thing, the Master might have been right. It is good to celebrate how far we've come."

There was a crash and they both winced as raucous laughter floated out to them from inside.

"Kili would have loved this," Brie said wistfully.

Thorin's frown deepened. Kili had stayed behind tonight, with Oin. The arrow wound to his leg hadn't mended properly, though it had been days since their flight from the Woodland realm. And though the young dwarf seemed determined to ignore it, his pale skin and easy tiredness were difficult to conceal.

"I'm worried about him," Brie confessed, without really meaning to. It wasn't her place to say, but Thorin was already nodding in absent agreement.

"He is hard-headed, stubborn," Thorin said thoughtfully, and Brie held back a smirk, "But I fear those things will not be enough to keep pace. We have lingered here too long as it is, we cannot afford any delays."

"It will break his heart," Brie said, "To be left behind."

Thorin's frown faltered for a moment and beneath it Brie could see a flicker of his own pain. But the expression hardened again and the moment passed.

"He's of Durin's line," he said firmly, clasping his hands behind him, "It will be difficult for him, but we cannot risk the quest on sentiment. He will understand."

Brie reached out and nearly touched his arm, but at the last moment she hesitated, then withdrew, turning her eyes back to the water. She could not deny that she was a little relieved to hear it. She had been worried that Kili's condition might worsen if he tried to continue on with them to the mountain, if he pushed his strength beyond what he could reasonably endure. And if Kili remained here, in Laketown, then that was one less dwarf to worry about when… well, if something went wrong.

She shuddered at the idea and Thorin shifted beside her, then something warm and heavy draped over her.

"You should go back in," he said, arranging his coat to lay more neatly on her shoulders, then gently touching the braid hanging by her ear, "Nori will have me sunk into the lake if you catch cold."

Brie blushed and dropped her head, tugging absently at the braid. Why did his eyes look so sad?

"Oh, _that_ ," she said, huffing a laugh to try to ease the tension in her stomach, "Do you know, I was quite surprised Dwalin didn't challenge the poor dear to a duel over it, or something equally idiotic, the way they both went on at the beginning."

She glanced up and caught Thorin looking thoroughly taken aback at this notion.

"He would never challenge your choice," he said, as if this were obvious, "No dwarf of any merit would dishonor you like that. Never think it, Miss Baggins."

Brie blinked, now as thoroughly taken aback as he had been. Dwarves were considered possessive, jealous creatures, and she had seen a fair amount of evidence concerning their fiercely protective instincts. She had naturally assumed that they would be inclined to fight for what, and who, they wanted, be it family, friends, or... But Thorin made the whole thing sound _unthinkable_ , barbaric even. Not that she didn't agree, she simply wasn't quite sure how to incorporate it into her previous experience and understanding.

"Well," she said, tugging at her braid again as she tried to gather her wits, "I suppose he's given up his pretense of disapproval by now anyway. He couldn't very well keep it up forever." She shook her head, a smile twitching her lips. "Dwarves are so funny. You'll adopt someone into your family, but starting a simple _courting_ appears to be completely out of the question!"

"We have nothing yet to give in courting," Thorin said and then blinked as if surprised by what he'd…

Oh. _We_... He'd said…

Brie's breath hitched and she gripped her braid a little tighter to keep from shaking. She took a step back, back toward the door, toward the muffled sounds of the party, toward safety.

"You're… You're probably right, we should get in… out of the cold, I mean, before I… before we…"

"Briallen."

His hand gripped her wrist, not tightly, but enough to stop her, to turn her back. He had taken a step closer, so close she could feel the heat of him in the chill night air, looking down at her with eyes that burned with fire, both frightening and thrilling at once. He leaned forward and for one shimmering moment Brie thought she might be about to do something _very_ Tookish indeed…

The door opened and the sounds of the party washed over them.

"Brie?"

Thorin dropped her hand and was gone, brushing past the shadow in the doorway and disappearing into the hall. Brie was left standing alone, cold and breathless and weak. Her head was spinning and it took a moment for her to recognize the shadow as Bilbo. Her brother's brow furrowed as he closed the door, muffling the noise again.

"Is everything alright?" he asked, "What did Thorin want?"

What did Thorin want? Yes, that was an excellent question. What could the great Thorin Oakenshield, of the line of Durin, Lord of Silver Fountains and King Under The Mountain, _possibly_ want with her?

"Nothing," she answered, sucking in the cold air and closing her eyes, "It was nothing."

* * *

 **A/N:** Try not to hate me too much :)

 **Khuzdul Translations:** (I separated these out according to the sections of the chapter, so hopefully it will be a little easier to follow along)

 _Lu'katûb duzi-_ You have no knowledge/You have no idea

/*

 _Asti aglukhat-_ You will improve.

 _Zailûthikîl-_ Mind of steel

 _Kurdûthikîl_ \- Heart of steel

 _Thiklul_ \- Like steel

 _Adjân duzi, mimelhekhinh-_ Have hope, little queen.

 _Azluf_ \- Sleep.

 _Atradabi_ \- I will keep watch.

/*

 _Sulladad-_ Eru Illuvatar, the 'All-Father'

' _Utnubinshlâs_ \- Man without integrity

 _Sabkanthmî diya!_ \- You'll wake her!

 _Muhdahûd_ \- tiny blessings

 _Zaznadâl_ \- bad dreams

' _Uglakh, ini tadarrani_ \- Better, but it will take time.

 _Khuluk, bundukeshekh, lalkhith…_ \- Difficult, hard-headed, young fool.

 _Kurdûbulum khuzdugamil_ \- soft-hearted, old dwarf

 _Bal kana_ \- Just so.

 _Ignig_ \- Go

 _Idkhit_ \- Rest.

 _Nangingzu nusus_ \- Your flower is safe.

/*

 _Kurdu-baraf-_ heart-family

 _Omdit-_ art of the heart

 _Ushrag-_ liar


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N:** May the Fourth be with you! :D I am so sorry I left you guys hanging so long here (I especially apologize to the Guest who has had a tab open to check for updates since March, dude, you are _intense_ , I like you! ;D). April was far more crazy than I expected it to be and my Age of Ultron fic sort of took over my life. I want to thank you all so much for your kind words and reviews while I was away, they really do mean so much to me :) Hopefully I can get back on schedule for a little while before I have to leave you again in July. But that's far in the future, here! Have a new chapter! I feel like I may have been a little self-indulgent with this one, I hope you can forgive me :)

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Five**

Kili's uncle was an idiot.

Briallen did not even want Kili to come, and she was still bristling on his behalf. Because the look on the boy's face was not just disappointment. It was… It was _heartbreak_.

"I'm going to be there when that door is opened," Kili insisted, his chin thrust out stubbornly, pressing against the hand holding him back, trying to keep him inside the house as the other dwarves gathered at the door to make their final trek through Laketown, "When we first look upon the halls of our fathers, Thorin."

Thorin's resolved expression wavered for a moment and Brie could see again how much this pained him, how difficult it was. But all that disappeared beneath a smile that did not reach his eyes as he moved his hand to Kili's shoulder, squeezing.

"Stay here, Kili. Rest. Join us when you're healed."

Kili stumbled back out of his uncle's grip, looking around him as if he were lost, adrift, not sure what he should do or where he should go.

"Uncle, we grew up on tales of the mountain," Fili said desperately, "Tales _you_ told us. You can't take that away from him!"

"Fili-"

"I will carry him, if I must!"

"One day you will be king," Thorin insisted, his face set again in that cold, distant expression that Brie hated so much, "And you will understand. I cannot risk the fate of this quest for the sake of one dwarf, not even my own kin."

Kili shrank back, looking nearly green he was so pale. Oin shouldered through the group and took the boy's elbow, examining him despite Kili's feeble protestations. Brie's heart ached.

"I'll stay with the lad," the old dwarf said, gruffly, "My duty lies with the wounded."

Fili set his jaw in a stubborn look of determination, and started to shove past his uncle. Thorin grabbed him by the arm.

"Fili, don't be a fool. You belong with the Company."

"I belong with my brother!"

He jerked out of Thorin's grip and, in anger, Thorin took a step toward him. Brie finally intervened, almost without meaning to, slipping to Thorin's side and putting a hand on his arm.

"Thorin," she murmured, "If it were your brother…"

These words froze him in his tracks. For a long moment he was very still, not looking at her, his jaw working beneath his skin. Then he turned a glare on her so heated Brie thought he might actually snarl, but she stood her ground and met his glare with determination. Finally he shrugged off her hand and stomped off, shouldering his pack.

"Let's go," he growled to the remaining members of his Company, "Durin's Day is hard on our heels."

"Um, aren't we still missing someone?" Bilbo spoke up timidly, "Where's Bofur?"

"If he's not here, we leave him behind," Thorin snapped and, without waiting for reply, slammed out the door and into the crowded street, leaving the rest of them scrambling to catch up.

* * *

She managed to get one glimpse over her shoulder, Kili standing forlornly in the doorway, supported on both sides by Oin and his brother. Brie got a sudden sinking feeling, a twinge of unease that she quickly pushed aside. This was best. Kili would get better and he would join them later.

If there was a later.

Brie was still feeling uneasy about the whole affair hours later when they finally reached the opposite shore of the Long Lake. Despite the sun dipping toward the western horizon, Thorin pushed them on, hiking through the sloping foothills toward the craggy cliffs of the mountain. The gray monument thrust into the sky, surrounded on all sides by little more than scrub and blackened earth. No birds sang. No animals rustled. The air was still and smelled barren. Brie shuddered and Nori eyed her warily.

"Cold, sweet?"

She pulled her jacket closer about her (fur-lined and quite lovely, if a little big for her) and shook her head. Nori's dubious expression didn't subside. He had been overly attentive all day, sitting next to her in the boat, plying her with food and water, asking if she was too cold or too hot or uncomfortable, touching her arms, her shoulders, fussing endlessly with her hair. They still wore one matching braid of lavender ribbon from the night before (tradition apparently stated they were to wear them for three days and three nights after their words were spoken, solidifying their family bond) and Brie flipped at the braid by his ear, managing a playful half-smile.

"I'm fine, Nori," she assured him, "Stop fussing or I might mistake you for your brother."

To her surprise, instead of looking offended, he grinned wickedly.

" _Our_ brother now, sweet," he said, "Welcome to the family."

Brie rolled her eyes, but was saved from reply by Thorin's sharp retort.

"Keep up! You fall behind and we'll leave you there!"

Nori growled, but Brie put her hand in his and shook her head.

"Come on."

They caught up to the others, settling in with Bilbo, Ori, and Dori. Bilbo looked pensive, biting his lip and frowning, his eyes focused on the ground. They hadn't found Bofur. And, just as Thorin had threatened, they had left him behind. Brie didn't know what had happened between her brother and the good-natured miner, but tension between them had been high, ever since Mirkwood. And if she knew her brother, he would be kicking himself that he hadn't made things right between them. It wasn't in his nature to hold a grudge, not even with their terrible relatives back home, who more than deserved it.

"He'll be alright, Bilbo," she said, making her brother jump out of his revery, "In fact, he's probably safer than we are, considering…"

Realizing what she'd been about to say, she trailed off, trying to ignore the twisting feeling in her stomach. Both their eyes skimmed up the long, barren slope, tracing the sharp lines of rock outlined against the deepening twilight.

"Right," Bilbo said, grimly. "Considering."

Brie felt Nori's fingers tighten around hers, but when she looked up, he didn't meet her eyes.

* * *

Thorin finally called a halt about an hour after full dark. The sky was filled with shimmering pinpricks of starlight and the moon was nearly full, washing the empty land around them with silver. They built a small fire and Brie sat close by, sticking her hands out to the flickering flames to warm them. She didn't realize for a long time that she was waiting for something, and it took the same amount of time again for her to realize what it was.

Dwalin had not come over to braid her hair. She had come to expect it of him, it was routine now. They made camp, they started a fire, and Dwalin redid her braids. That was simply how things were done. But tonight the dwarf remained where he was, a few feet away, concentrating on his axe handles as if there might be some previously unseen flaw in the construction. Once she what was amiss, she discovered also that it vexed her. She _liked_ Dwalin braiding her hair. And of late there seemed to be a terrible lack of things that she genuinely liked.

She turned and dug in her bag until she came up with a comb she had managed to acquire in Laketown. Then she marched straight over to Dwalin and held it out, trying her best to look as stern as possible. He stared at the comb in her hand, then up at her with an expression that she didn't understand at all. It was almost _pained._

"You've a family now, Miss Baggins," he said, gruffly, turning back to his axe handles, "They'll see to it."

"Ori hasn't the experience, Dori fusses too much, and Nori does everything up as if I'm a doll," Brie said, still stubbornly holding out the comb to him, "I like yours better."

"T'wouldn't be proper-"

Brie stomped her foot.

"I am _cold_ , I am _tired_ , I am nearly _sick_ with worry, and I am _asking_ you, Dwalin," she said, holding out the comb to him again, "Please."

He stared at the comb in her hand for a moment, almost longingly, as if it were a jewel that she held just out of his reach. Then his gaze slid to the side, toward Nori, who lay reclined against a boulder and had said nothing throughout this entire exchange, lazily smoking his pipe. He caught Dwalin's eye and shrugged.

"The lass wants you, guardsman," he said, no malice in the title now, "Certainly not going to argue with her, I've got better things to do."

He took another drag on his pipe and exhaled a perfect ring of smoke. He smiled satisfactorily.

So Brie settled herself by the fire and Dwalin went to work, loosening her braids (being careful not to touch the small braid by her face that contained her lavender ribbon) and smoothing her hair with the comb. His hands were gentle and steady, and Brie shut her eyes, letting the fire warm her face. For the first time since Mirkwood, she felt herself again. For the first time since Mirkwood, she felt like singing.

Nori joined her first, and that was no surprise. His tenor hum echoed her own soprano, twisting into the air like floating embers. But she was surprised when she heard another dwarven voice mingle with their two, Dwalin's deeper baritone like a billow of smoke rising out of the dark. Dwalin almost never sang. That was when Brie heard other voices too, all different timbres and vibratos, humming against the night… And she realized with a jolt what she had done. She shot upright, eyes flying opening, choking on the tune that had come to her throat from unbidden memory. It was their song. The dwarves' song, the song they had sung in her parlor the night everything had changed. The last night.

"Do you remember the words?"

Thorin's voice was sharp, but not angry. He was watching her from over the fire, his blue eyes flickering. The others all turned to him. Dwalin's hands had stilled in her hair. Brie dropped her eyes to her lap, where her hands had clenched together.

"It's not my song to sing," she whispered, "I'm sorry."

"It belongs to all of us," Thorin answered, "Now, more than ever. Sing, if you remember."

Brie sucked in a breath through her nose and shut her eyes. She could see him, the light of a different fire dancing over his hard face, his distant gaze as the words bubbled up from someplace deep inside him. In his soul.

"Far over… the Misty Mountains cold…"

The words shook in her chest and came out in shimmering vibrato. She kept her eyes shut, but the dwarves were humming again and she felt their strength holding her up.

"Through dungeons deep-" She nearly faltered as Mirkwood swam before her eyes, but she swallowed and caught the melody again before it escaped her. "-and caverns old."

She felt Dwalin's fingers card gently through her hair, and she took in another breath for courage.

"We must away…" Thorin's voice joined hers now, deep and lovely, sad and powerful, twisted together with her own and somehow giving the melody a depth that Brie could never hope to find on her own. "...'ere break of day. To find our long, forgotten gold."

Brie opened her eyes as the others joined them in the second stanza, the song swelling in an attempt to fill the emptiness of the land that surrounded them. Thorin was still watching her, studying her, as if she were something new and possibly dangerous. His eyes wavered and danced in the light, but they never left her face, not until the last notes faded into the night.

* * *

They reached the overlook at noon the next day and paused to rest. The ruined city of Dale stretched out below them and Brie felt gooseflesh crawling up her spine as if ghostly fingers walked along her back.

"Let's go," Thorin said, shouldering a pack after only a few moments, "We must find the hidden door before the sun sets."

"Wait," Bilbo said, glancing curiously from the city to Thorin and back, "Didn't Gandalf say to meet him here? At the overlook, on no account were we to-"

"Do you see him?" Thorin snapped, "We have no time to wait upon the wizard. Durin's Day is here and we have only this one chance to find the door. We are on our own."

He turned his back and Brie shuddered at his words. They were cold, determined, detached. Something was wrong with him, and had been for some time, _days_ it seemed now that she thought about it. But she could not put her finger on what it was. She didn't like it. She rushed to catch up to him, hoisting her pack as she matched pace at his side.

"You don't really believe that," she said, looking up at him. He did not meet her gaze. "We're not alone. If nothing else, we have each other."

Thorin's jaw tightened.

"Keep your eye on the mountain," he said and pulled ahead, leaving her intentionally behind.

* * *

The hidden stairs were tall, even for dwarf legs, but for hobbits it was like scaling a series of small cliffs. Brie did not dare look down, for though she had never been particularly averse to heights, the steep drop to the sharp rocks below made her head spin. She was grateful when the stairway ended, even if the clearing cut into the mountainside seemed a bit crowded. She and Bilbo shuffled carefully out of the way as the dwarves clustered around the blank wall of stone.

"Right," Dwalin said, matter-of-factly, dropping his bag and rubbing his hands together eagerly, "We have a key. So that means, there must be a key hole."

"That _would_ stand to reason," Brie grumbled, stretching her back. The growing lump of unease that had been growing in her gut made her grumpy and sharp. She squinted at the setting sun as Dwalin began running his fingers over the wall.

"The last light of Durin's Day-" Thorin murmured, his eyes fixed upon the old map in his hands, "-will shine upon the keyhole.

Brie could not help peeking over his elbow to get a look at the map herself. When he abruptly turned, she shrank back out of his way and he paused, his brow furrowed.

"Sorry," she muttered, shuffling off to fiddle with her bag, hoping she was imagining his eyes following her.

The sun dipped further toward the horizon and the dwarves began to get restless. Dwalin's examination of the wall had lost its methodical steadiness, replaced with frazzled urgency. Nori had joined him, tapping a spoon to the stone, his ear pressed against the wall with a look of intense concentration. A breeze blew over the rock face and Brie shivered, wrapping her arms around herself.

"We're losing the light," Balin said, an edge to his normally calm, steady voice.

"Maybe we have the wrong day?" Brie said, but she didn't sound convincing even to herself.

Dwalin began to kick and Nori snapped, "Stop that! I can't hear when you're thumping!"

"It's not here," Dwalin said, running his hands over the stone one more frantic time, "It's not here!"

The sun dropped dangerously low, now only a sliver flaring in the distance.

"Break it down!" Thorin ordered and a few of the dwarves grabbed their weapons.

"No, wait!" Brie exclaimed, but Nori pushed her back, out of the way of sharp objects and panicked dwarves, "Thorin, what if you damage it?!"

"It won't make much difference if we can't get inside, will it?" Thorin snarled as the clang of axes and maces on stone reverberated on the mountainside.

"Oh, you… You're _impossible_ , the lot of you!" Brie snapped, ducking under Nori's arms, scrambling to Dwalin's side as he hammered on the unyielding stone with his axe, "Dwalin, stop this idiocy, before I-!"

Brie didn't see what hit her. Probably a sharp chip of rock, but it could have been any number of things. All she felt was a sharp pain as something struck the side of her face and she cried out, stumbling back and clutching at her cheek. Something warm coated her fingers and she pulled them away to look. They shone red in the fading light.

"Briallen!" Nori cried and she heard a great clatter as various weapons hit the ground.

"Let me see, lass," Dwalin said, his gruff voice shaking a touch as his hands reached for her.

"I'm fine," she said, clenching her jaw and ignoring the sting as she covered the wound again, "It's just a scratch."

"The light…"

Ori's sad, small voice turned them all back to the horizon. The sun had set. There was nothing but a line of orange and purple coloring the edges of the sky, rapidly fading away to deep blue. The lump in Brie's stomach clenched painfully.

"The last light…" Thorin's voice sounded empty and hollow in the sudden silence of the clearing. "...will shine upon the keyhole. That's what it says."

The map lay flat in his open hands, trembling. He looked up at the wall. His face was shadowed, but the hurt and confusion were etched deeply into the lines of his expression. His eyes fixed on Balin and he seemed young for the first time since Brie had known him, like a child that's been betrayed and can't understand.

"What did we miss, Balin?" he asked, dazed, faint, "What did we miss?"

Balin sighed and looked back at the dark horizon. "We've lost the light. There's no more to be done."

"What are you talking about?" Bilbo asked, looking about in frustrated bafflement as the others began to gather their things together, "Where are you going?"

Brie couldn't speak. She felt as if any words had been frozen in her throat. Thorin was staring at the key in his hand, the oddly shaped thing he had been wearing around his neck since that first night in Bag End, the night he had both captivated and infuriated her in the space of a moment. He had stared at the key in wonder then. Now he looked stricken, as if this piece of his father had simply died in his hands. Brie took a step toward him, holding out her hand, not sure what she planned to do, but needing to do _something_.

"Thorin?"

He looked at her. There had always been fire in his eyes, forge fires that Brie had imagined burned at the very heart of who he was. There was no fire now. There was only a shimmer of pain, of longing. He took her offered hand and pressed the key into her palm, closing her fingers around it.

"I'm sorry, _nanginguh_ ," he whispered, that unfamiliar word forcing the air from her lungs in a shaking breath.

Then he was gone. Brie could still hear Bilbo angrily protesting, but his words were very far away. The key was heavy in her hand, heavier than she might have thought, weighted with expectation, with regret, with purpose unfulfilled. She stared at it through her fingers, not trusting them to open. She was shaking too badly.

"Stand by the gray stone," Bilbo muttered behind her, in his thinking voice, "When the thrush knocks…" She pulled the key into her chest and squeezed her eyes shut. Her cheek still stung. That felt very far away too. "The setting sun… The last light of Durin's Day will shine... Hmm..."

Brie opened her eyes. It was full dark now, and she could just see stars twinkling between layers of clouds scuttling across the sky. It was brighter than it should have been. Bright with silver light…

"The last light…" she whispered, and her heart suddenly leapt in her chest, "The _last_ light! Bilbo!"

She turned just as the moon burst from behind the clouds and there, so obvious Brie was flabbergasted they had missed it before, was a shadowy hole that looked to be just the right size for a dwarven key.

"Wait!" she shouted, stumbling frantically back toward the stairs, her voice echoing against the stones, "Dwalin, Nori, come back! It was the _last_ light, the last _moon_ of autumn! We found it! Thorin, _wait_!"

There was no answer. She turned back to the wall, clutching the key protectively in both hands.

"Should we...?" Bilbo asked, bouncing nervously from foot to foot, "I mean, we don't know how long it will last…"

"I don't…" She took a step toward the keyhole, toward the door she knew must be hidden beyond, and then stepped back again. "It doesn't… It doesn't seem right. Not without…"

Brie's hands were shaking and she clasped them more tightly together, terrified that she might drop the precious key, that it might be lost in the unending dark. Her heart was pounding. Her throat was dry. She swallowed, and shook her head.

"It's not ours," she said, the knot in her stomach tightening, 'It doesn't belong to us."

"It belongs to all of us."

The low, steady voice loosened her knots and Brie let out a shaking breath as she turned and held out the key, her hands more steady with Thorin's warmth at her back.

"But it wouldn't have been right," she said, smiling up at him, his face softly lit with moonlight, "Not without you."

His smile trembled on his lips as he reached out and grasped the key in her hand. Brie stepped back, leaving a path clear to the keyhole, so clearly illuminated in the moonlit rockface. Thorin's eyes brightened. It took only three steps for him to cross the clearing and slide the key into the lock. It turned with a grinding click. Brie held her breath. Thorin pressed his fingertips to the rock and, with a motion that looked both strong and effortless, the slanted door broke free, sliding on invisible hinges to thump inside the darkened space beyond. Brie let out the breath she had been holding in a sigh.

"Erebor," Thorin murmured and the word swept over the dwarves in a shudder. They moved forward to crowd at his back.

"Thorin..."

Balin's voice was thick. Thorin placed his hand on his old friend's shoulder before he stepped over the threshold. As they had done for so many months, and so many miles, the dwarves followed him, slipping into the dark beyond the door. Even Bilbo followed, with almost the same reverence, his eyes wide, taking in every detail and committing it to memory. Brie hesitated, but then tentatively stepped in after them.

It was not as dark as she had expected, but the hush was palpable, like a weight on her chest. She put a hand to the wall as she took slow, careful steps, running her fingers along the rough hewn rock. It felt warm to the touch and tingled beneath her skin.

A large, warm hand covered hers, pressing it to the stone.

"Can you feel it?" Thorin asked, his voice low and trembling, rumbling in his chest.

Brie nodded and Thorin let out a breath, as if he had been holding it.

" _Kêlur'abani_ ," he said, caressing the word as if it were precious, "Pure life, held in stone."

He moved his hand and her hand moved with his, tracing a pattern that she couldn't read, but she could feel, vibrating in her bones.

"Is it magic?" she asked, softly, as if she were afraid that it might break if she spoke too loudly.

Thorin frowned, his hand still covering hers, pressing it to the humming stone.

"It… simply is," he said, "All dwarves feel it, it calls to us, urging us to carve and shape and make, to draw it out. And as we draw it out, we add to it. Each dwarf that carved this wall-" He passed their hands together over the stone once more. "-left a bit of themselves behind, buried within. Each dwarf that passed through this tunnel-" He looked up at the ceiling, as if he could see their shades, "-bled life into these walls."

He paused, then met her eyes.

"Yes, Miss Baggins," he said, "It is the best kind of magic."

And in that moment, Brie found that she wholeheartedly agreed.

* * *

 **Khuzdul Translations**

 _Nanginguh-_ my flower

 _Kêlur'abani_ \- I made this up from two separate words, "containing life" and "element/part of the stone", respectively. My intended meaning was "Life of the Stone".


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N:** Alright kids, we're gonna jump right in, but I just wanted to warn you that there's a bit of Khuzdul in this chapter, translations can be found at the bottom :) Enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Six**

Brie tried to ignore Thorin's imperious scowl as Gloin did his best to clean the cut on her cheek.

"You're hurt," Thorin said, in a stubborn tone Brie had not heard since the Misty Mountains, "You shouldn't be down there."

Brie rolled her eyes, trying not to move her face as she did so.

"It's a scratch _._ I'm fine." She flinched as Gloin smeared a salve into the wound. "Ow! Green Mother, that _smarts_."

"The dragon will smell blood," Thorin continued, crossing his arms, "You'll be a liability."

"If the dragon is down there, he will smell us whether I'm bleeding or not," Brie countered, batting away Gloin's attempts to bandage her up. "I'm not letting Bilbo go alone. It's the whole reason I came in the first place!"

"Things change."

"Not this."

Brie met Thorin's glare with one of her own and the clearing fell eerily silent. Finally Thorin snorted.

"Suit yourself."

He turned and stomped off to the edge of the clearing, glaring moodily out at the darkened landscape as the breeze ruffled his hair in majestic waves. Which only served to make Brie angrier.

"He's not wrong, you know."

Brie whirled to fix her glare on Nori, leaning against the rock wall. He met her eyes without any sign of intimidation.

"You shouldn't be down there if you're hurt."

"I'm _not_ hurt!" Brie snapped, and winced at the sting. Nori continued to stare pointedly. She gritted her teeth and refused to look away.

Finally, he sighed and folded down onto his knees, taking her hands in his and pressing their brows together.

" _Lu hassu hassê;_

 _Ak kurdû kurdê;_

 _Ammâ baraf,_

 _Hararsi."_

Brie shut her eyes tight to keep tears from forming. He was repeating the words they had spoken when his family had taken them in: _agnâtu-ihrêr_ , the vow of belonging.

"And if you think I'm gonna let you die down there," he said, his voice going low and dangerous, nearly a growl, "you are sadly mistaken, sweet."

Brie could not help it. She laughed, a little huff through the unshed tears in the back of her throat.

"Oh Nori," she whispered, taking his face in her hands, "Brave, kind Nori, thief of my heart. You cannot steal me away from this."

"Maybe not," he said, sitting back so he could look her squarely in the eye, his expression wild and slightly dangerous, "But at the first sign of trouble, any at all, and don't think I won't go charging in after you, dragon be damned. I may not be a prince… or a king…" His eyes flicked to Thorin and away again. "But I'm as capable of saving a damsel from a dragon as anyone, just see if I'm not."

There was no use arguing with him. So Brie merely smiled and touched his face, letting her fingers linger on the lavender braid still dangling from his beard.

"Of course, you are," she said, "I never doubted it."

She would have to rely on Dori to save Nori from himself when the time came. _If_ the time came.

"I wonder if I might have a moment, Miss Baggins?"

Brie and Nori both looked up, surprised. Balin stood with his hands behind his back, rocking on the balls of his feet in the only sign of anxiety Brie thought she had ever seen from the old dwarf. She dropped her hand from Nori's face.

"Of course, Balin."

The older dwarf gave Nori a significant look and her new brother got to his feet and ambled off. Brie got to her feet and dusted her trousers before turning a smile to Balin.

"Now, what can I do for you, Balin?" she asked.

The older dwarf still had his hands clasped formally behind him, his chin tucked into his white beard, and he did not meet her eyes as he rocked back and forth. This was odd. Balin had never seemed so unnerved before.

"I know we're asking you for the impossible," he said finally, "But, if I could beg one more favor of…? That is, if you don't mind… Would you speak to Dwalin? Before you go?"

Brie blinked. That hadn't been anything like what she'd expected at all.

"Well... I mean, of course if... But, why? I don't understand."

Balin's shoulders relaxed a little and he finally smiled at her, reaching out to run his fingers down the long sturdy braid that hung over her shoulder.

"Do you know why Dwalin braids your hair?"

Brie furrowed her brow, even more confused now than when she had started.

"Well... I suppose because he likes to? He's very good at it, considering he's got none but his beard and even that..."

"He braids your hair because it reminds him of our mother."

All the words evaporated from Brie's throat, leaving behind only a memory of Rivendell, crystal clear and bright, as if it had happened yesterday rather than a lifetime ago.

 _"Your mother must have been a great lady..."_ Dwalin had said, " _It is a privilege to occupy a place in your mind that holds her memory."_

"Our mother was already old when she brought Dwalin into the world," Balin said, " _Khajamulê_ _,_ she called him, the gift of her age, and they were nigh on inseparable. She taught him to fight and to forge. When she got stone-sickness..."

"Stone-sickness?" Brie asked.

"It's a disease of the bones," Balin explained, "Prevalent in some dwarf families. Our joints stiffen as we get older, until they can't be bent anymore, usually starting with the fingers. At least, that's where it started for our mother. And when it got so she could no longer braid her hair..."

"Dwalin did it for her," Brie breathed.

"Every day," Balin nodded, "Even the day she died. She was returned to the stone with her son's tears woven into her braids."

Brie felt light-headed and she reached for the nearest boulder to steady her.

"Oh Balin," she whispered, "I... I didn't know."

Balin took her shoulders in his hands and held her upright, his face solemn and sincere.

"It has been my privilege, Miss Baggins, to witness the joy you have brought back into my brother's life. I could never repay you for it, not if I had all the gold and jewels in the world. But if this is to be the last..."

Balin's voice broke.

"I'll speak to him," Brie said, "I promise. I was going to anyway, I couldn't bear to leave without saying… I just…"

Balin took a step closer and gently touched his forehead to hers. Brie could barely breathe.

"Thank you, Briallen," he whispered, "For everything."

* * *

Dwalin was sitting alone at the far edge of the clearing, sharpening one of his axes. He did not even look up as Brie approached him.

"Aye, lass, were you needing something?" he asked.

Brie didn't answer him. Instead, she gently took the axe from his hand, set it on the ground, then took his surprised face in her hands and gently pressed her brow to his. She closed her eyes, but despite her best efforts a single tear escaped to trail down her face. Dwalin's hands, hands as strong and as gentle as his heart, reached up to cradle her face (careful of the cut that still lingered on her cheek) and Brie let out a shuddering breath she hadn't known she was holding.

"It's alright, lass," he whispered, "It's gonna be alright."

She nodded, but still she did not answer. It took her several moments before she felt like she could form the words without breaking.

"Your mother..." she whispered.

Dwalin sighed, but did not pull away. "You spoke to Balin."

"He spoke to me," Brie corrected. She opened her eyes and looked into Dwalin's brown ones, so dark they were almost black. "It has been a privilege to occupy a place in your mind that holds her memory."

Something glistened painfully in those dark eyes, but he blinked it away and set his jaw, his fingers flexing gently on her face.

"Come back to us, lass," he whispered fiercely, "Come back to us."

Brie smiled.

"I will do my best."

Dwalin grinned and there was a glint in his eye that was not from tears.

"Do better."

* * *

The Baggins twins stood together at the mouth of the tunnel, peering through the open doorway into the dark.

"Well." Bilbo said.

"Well." Brie agreed.

Bilbo gave her a glance that she caught at the corner of her eye and she cut him off before he could even open his mouth.

"Don't start. I'm going and that's that."

Bilbo's mouth shut and he turned his eyes back to the tunnel. The ends of his lavender ribbon fluttered in his hair and Brie sighed, tucking them back behind his ear.

"We're going to be alright," she said, smiling at him despite the cold thrumming through her veins, "Together or not at all, remember?"

He smiled too and tugged at the braid by her ear.

"Yeah," he said, "Together or not at all."

Then, on unspoken agreement, they stepped over the threshold and padded on silent feet along the smooth stone corridor, sloping down into the depths of the mountain. At the first turn, Brie looked back. The dwarves were crowded around the doorway, watching them go with a mixture of scowls and frowns and fretting. She caught Thorin's eye. He looked away. Brie passed beyond the corner and did not look back again.

* * *

The treasure room was _enormous_.

Brie had imagined that finding one stone in a mountain might be a bit more difficult than Balin had made it sound, but this was _absurd!_ She wasn't even certain they would be able to find their way back, if they wandered too far. It wasn't just one heap of treasure, it was an endless sea of shimmering gold and fractured light, rising and falling in swells and valleys that stretched as far as the eye could see.

"This is preposterous," she grumbled, carefully toeing her way forward over a mound of shifting coins that rattled and chimed in a cascade wherever she placed her weight, "We're more likely to be buried in our own missteps than…"

There was a clatter and she dropped to a crouch, heart hammering in her chest, her eyes searching. Bilbo had a hand out to the shimmering avalanche that he seemed to have created, and Brie could hear his useless shushing and fussing as the metal came to a slow halt once more. The cavernous room rang with the echoes for a moment and then fell silent. Brie held her breath.

Nothing.

She exhaled and put her face in her hands, nearly weeping with uselessness of it all. Why were they even here? For a jewel? Yes, risking their lives for some silly _rock_ , so that Thorin Oakenshield could claim his right rule over the _rest_ of these silly rocks! It was ridiculous. Anyone with _eyes_ could see that Thorin was a king. _She'd_ known it the moment he'd stepped through her door, and hobbits didn't even _have_ kings!

"Ridiculous," she repeated aloud, struggling with a large round object (a shield, perhaps?) that appeared to be covering something shiny beneath it. "Totally, absolutely, ridicu-"

The shield came free with a jerk that sent Brie rolling down a hill of gold in a shower of glittering coins and jewels. The sound was enormous, ringing in her ears long after it should have stopped. She rolled off a small ledge and struggled to her feet, trying to avoid being buried beneath the tremendous weight of the treasure that was sliding toward her in an inexorable heap. She opened her mouth to cry out for her brother… and had to close it again to prevent a scream.

The triangular head was still half buried in the mountain of gold, but she could see the red scales gleaming dully against the glittering shimmer. The lidded eye was larger than both Brie and Bilbo put together, and Bilbo was standing right in front of it, clearly frozen in terror. There was an explosion of sound and gold shot away from a long, scaled snout, revealing nostrils as large as Bombur was around, which was considerable. A giggle tried to bubble up Brie's throat and she clapped a hand over her mouth to suppress the hysteria. She could _not_ lose her wits.

The dragon's head shifted, and Bilbo went fleeing down the mountain of coins, gold rattling and sliding in his wake. There was a shift on the other side of the room and Brie nearly shrieked as the enormous tail of the dragon came into view. The sheer _length_ of… Brie's mind went terrifyingly blank. Though she was seeing it with her own two eyes, she could not fathom it.

The head shifted again and Bilbo dropped where he stood behind a swell in the treasure. He locked eyes with Brie and his face screwed up with determination as the head lifted over him, the eye still shut as if resisting the need to be roused from sleep. Bilbo made a sharp downward gesture… and then he was gone, blinked out of existence as if he had never been. Brie regained enough presence of mind to drop below the slight ledge just as the great golden eye of the dragon slid open. Brie scrunched up into a tight ball, pressing both hands to her mouth to muffle her panicked breathing.

"Well, Thief," The dragon's dark voice rumbled through the room with the timbre of thunder. "I smell you. I hear your breath. I feel your air. Where are you?"

The gold shifted over Brie and air moved in great gusts as the dragon stalked through the room. Brie shut her eyes tight, trembling. Bilbo was out there. Even his invisibility wouldn't save him for long, stuck upon a mountain of sliding gold where even the slightest movement might give him away. What were they going to do? Steeling herself, Brie peeked over the ledge. There was a disturbance of the coins in Bilbo's last location and Smaug's head turned. The coins tinkled pell mell down the slope, following what Brie knew had to be the line of her brother's flight. The dragon moved with surprising speed, but abruptly the coins ceased their tumble. Smaug began his slow, patient search again.

"Come now, don't be shy," he purred, "Step into the light!"

Brie dropped again behind the ledge as the huge head turned toward her. Her whole body was shaking, but she remained where she was. She could not run, no matter how much she wanted to. If she moved, even an inch, the dragon would see her.

"Mmm, there is something about you... Something you carry."

There was a hum in the air, not a sound precisely, but a _feeling_. It felt like… like magic, but not the magic that surrounded Imladris, or even the _kêlur'abani_ that she had felt in the stone beneath Thorin's hand. This was darker, and far more powerful. Brie's teeth ached from it.

"Something made of gold..." the dragon rumbled and the hum increased. Brie squeezed her eyes shut. "But far... more... _precious..."_

 _Bilbo!_

"You have found me out, oh Smaug, the unequivocally clever!" Brie shouted, leaping to her feet.

The dragon's head turned toward her and the coins just by his head shifted slightly, then went still. Smaug didn't seem to notice. He skimmed across the gold hoard with a surprising speed and grace until he was nearly upon her, his golden eye gleaming.

"Ah, so _that's_ where you've been hiding, Thief in the Shadows."

Brie swallowed past the lump in her throat.

"Truly, I did not come to steal from you, oh Smaug, the... unassessably wealthy," she said, her voice far more steady than she would have thought possible. "I merely wanted to gaze upon your magnificence, to see if you really were as great as the old tales say. I did not believe them."

Brie cringed at the squeak in her voice, but the dragon merely grinned (if that horrible toothy monstrosity could be called a grin) and slid away, so quickly that Brie's eyes almost could not follow him. He slithered to the top of a swell of treasure, then reared back on his hind legs and spread his great wings. The gold and jewels wedged in his scales glistened in the faint light of the cavern.

"And do you now?!" the dragon roared and if Brie had not already been convinced of the dragon's magnificence, she thought that now she would have been.

"Truly," she said, "the tales and songs... fall _utterly_ short of your enormity, oh Smaug, the stupendous."

This seemed to please the dragon. He lowered himself and turned his head to get another good look at her.

"Do you think flattery will keep you alive?"

"No."

But she _did_ hope it would keep Bilbo alive. Keep the beast distracted long enough for her brother to escape, to get to the others, to let them live. If she could just keep the dragon occupied long enough for Bilbo to get away, they might all yet live.

Nori...

 _"...if you think I'm gonna let you die down there..."_

Dwalin...

 _"Come back to us, lass. Come back to us."_

Thorin... Oh, _Thorin..._

Brie closed her eyes and held back the tears that threatened.

"No indeed," Smaug said, curling himself lazily around a pillar, "You seem familiar with my name, but I don't remember smelling your kind before. Who are you, and where do you come from, may I ask?"

Brie's eyes opened. She was still alive? She had thought… but it didn't matter what she thought, what mattered was that Smaug was looking at her as if he expected an answer. A curious dragon… Could something be made of that?

"I... I come from..."

Smaug rumbled and moved toward her eagerly. She cringed and the gold shifted under her as he moved. That's when she saw it. A white gem, no bigger than a goose egg and glowing with its own light, as pure and lovely as she'd ever seen. Brie was not much for gemstones, but even she had to admit, it was beautiful.

" _You'll know it when you see it…"_

Balin's words echoed back to her in a flash and she knew. The Arkenstone. She was looking at the Arkenstone.

Smaug rumbled and Brie jumped.

"I come from under the hill!" she cried, stumbling back, but keeping the jewel just in the corner of her eye.

This seemed to perplex and intrigue the dragon.

"Underhill?"

"And... and under hills and over hills my path has led," Brie said, still talking, if she could just keep talking... "And through the air! I have flown with eagles and walked with bears."

"Impressive," Smaug said, pulling back a trifle as he considered her words, "What else do you claim to be?"

Riddles. She wasn't spouting nonsense. It was _riddles_ , and really this was much more her brother's area, but she would have to make do. The Arkenstone still lay within her sight. She started edging her way forward.

"I have been Wolfsbane... and Warg-slayer."

"Fearsome titles," the dragon said, with a what might have been a hint of contempt, "Go on."

Brie edged forward another step and thought of Bilbo, making his way through the mountains of gold, through the tunnels, to safety.

"I am she who never walks alone, for where I go my heart goes with me."

"Ah..." The dragon said swarming down from his perch and encircling her, "Now, that _is_ interesting! So your little dwarf friends, they remain in your _heart_ do they, even as they skulk about outside?"

Brie froze, inches from Smaug's snout. She could feel his breath like a hot furnace, almost hot enough to scorch her where she stood.

 _Think, Brie, think!_

"Dwarves?" she squeaked, "Oh... no, I'm afraid you are mistaken, oh Smaug, chiefest and greatest of calamities."

She would have to thank Bofur, if she ever saw him again.

"Oh, I don't think so, _warg-slayer_ ," Smaug rumbled, spitting the title at her like a curse, "I know the smell and taste of dwarf. None better! And you _reek_ of it! It is the gold! They are drawn to treasure like flies to dead flesh and they sent you in here to do their dirty work! Did you think I did not know this day would come, when a pack of canting dwarves would come crawling back to the mountain?!"

The dragon roared and charged wildly, his legs and tail thrashing. Brie screamed and tumbled from the treasure mound, rolling to the bottom and scrambling for cover in the crevice of a large pillar. _Bilbo…_ She hoped he was far away by now, perhaps already out of the hidden door, urging the dwarves to flee, telling Thorin…

"It's _Oakenshield_ ," the dragon hissed, and Brie's heart leapt to her throat, "That filthy, dwarvish usurper! He sent you for the Arkenstone, didn't he?"

Brie felt the knot in her gut freeze solid.

"I… I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't bother denying it," Smaug growled in disgust, "I guessed his foul purpose some time ago. But it matters not. The King under the Mountain is dead; I took his throne. I ate his people like a wolf among sheep. And though his heir sends _Wolfsbane_ to destroy me, I am no mere pup! I kill where I wish, when I wish. My armor is iron. No blade can pierce me!"

She made a break for the stairway just as Smaug's tail smashed into the pillar where she had been hiding. She skidded down the glittering slope, but the thrashing of the enraged dragon turned the becalmed sea of gold into an undulating storm of waves and troughs. It spit her wildly into the air and she landed hard on the stone floor.

"What did he promise you?" Smaug roared, "A share of the treasure? As if it was his to give! I will not part with a single coin. Not one piece of it!"

"What need have I for treasure?" Brie snapped, a little affronted that he thought she was so easily bought, "I am not like you, my heart is not tied to possessions and trinkets!"

"And what is your heart tied to I wonder?" the dragon purred, slithering through the gold, his neck outstretched. Brie scrambled in among the pillars that held the stairway aloft, hoping the shadows might hide her.

"Aahh," he rumbled, "I see now. You _care_ about him."

Brie shuddered and shut her eyes, hugging her knees to her chest.

"What did you think? Bring him the prize and perhaps buy his affection? You can't possibly believe he could ever care for _you_ more than he cares for that _stone_."

Brie opened her eyes and there it was, just out of reach, gleaming in its own light as pure as any star in the night sky. It was beautiful. Too beautiful. And it meant so much to Thorin...

"You have been used, Thief in the shadows," Smaug rumbled above her, "You were only ever a means to an end. The coward Oakenshield has weighed the value of your life and found it worth _nothing_."

"No," Brie said, "You're lying."

The dragon rumbled again and Brie realized he was laughing. Her blood ran cold and she clenched her fingers into shaking fists. She darted out from beneath the stairway, snatching for the glimmering stone, but before her fingers could close around it, the dragon swooped out of the air, a single beat of his great wings blowing her over and slamming her into a pile of treasure. She rolled back to her feet, but the dragon was there, crouched like a large, scaly cat, tail twitching, the Arkenstone gleaming between them. He followed her gaze and opened his jaws in another toothy grin.

"I am almost tempted to let you take it," he said, "If only to see Oakenshield suffer. Watch it destroy him. Corrupt his heart, and drive him mad."

The knot in Brie's stomach clenched. The dragon was a liar, she could tell that as well as anything. But… what had her father always said?

 _At the heart of every good lie is a grain of truth..._

"But I think not," Smaug said, sitting back and spreading his wings wide, "I think our little game ends here. So tell me, _Thief_ , how do you choose to die?"

Too late. There was nowhere to run. As Smaug drew back his head and the scales of his chest began to glow, Brie let the ice of the river course through her, give her the strength to stand her ground and face what came, all thought of escape gone from her mind. She had done her best to give the others a chance. She hoped it was enough.

 _I'm sorry, Thorin._

* * *

The ground rumbled and Nori was on his feet.

"I'm going after them."

Dwalin was on his feet too, snatching Nori's arm and pulling him back in a protective gesture that Nori resisted.

"Give them more time," Thorin heard himself say, though the words sounded very far away. He turned so the others could not see his face and shut his eyes as the ground shook again.

"Time to do what?" Balin snapped and that was strange. Balin did not usually snap, not even at Thorin. "To be _killed_?"

Thorin suppressed a shudder, buried it deep down inside him, beneath his honor, his duty, his pride…

"You're afraid," he snarled and the older dwarf took a step back from him. That wasn't right either. Balin had never stepped back, had never cowered in his life, not in the face of orc, nor warg, nor dragon.

"Yes, I am afraid," he said, matching Thorin's glare with one of his own, "I fear for _you_. A sickness lies upon that treasure hoard, a sickness that drove your grandfather mad!"

Thorin flinched and turned away again. "I am not my grandfather."

"You're certainly not yourself," Balin countered, "The Thorin I knew would not hesitate to go in there and-"

"I will not risk this quest on the lives of two _burglars_!"

There was a long pause.

"Is that all she is to you, Thorin?" Balin asked, quietly, "A burglar?"

He closed his eyes and bunched his fists. He was shaking.

"Thorin?"

Balin's voice sounded like it was coming down a long tunnel. He couldn't breathe. She was going to die... Oh _Mahal_ , she was going to _die!_

The ground pitched beneath his feet and he was moving before he had put any thought to it. By the time he had gained the entrance to the hidden doorway he was running, running toward the glow and the rumble and the heat steadily burning hotter the further he went. The echoes of shouts and footsteps followed him down the passageway, but they were empty noise, drowned out by the sound of his own pounding heartbeat.

He could not let her die.

 _Briallen..._

 _Mahal_ , he was such a fool.

* * *

 **A/N:** I know. I'm the worst. #sorrynotsorry ;D

* * *

 **Khuzdul Translations**

 _Lu hassu hassê-_ Not flesh of my flesh

 _Ak kurdû kurdê-_ But heart of my heart

 _Ammâ baraf-_ We are family

 _Hararsi-_ You belong

 _Agnâtu-ihrêr-_ vow of belonging

 _Khajamulê-_ gift of my age

 _Kêlur'abani_ \- life from the stone


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N:** Wow… This chapter is a doozy, in so many ways! I really hope you guys enjoy it! Fair warning, around the middle of the chapter there is quite a chunk of Khuzdul, Quenya, and even a line of Adûniac thrown in for good measure! Translations can all be found in the note at the bottom. Enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Seven**

"So tell me, Thief, how do you choose to die?"

Too late. There was nowhere to run.

 _I'm sorry, Thorin._

Brie shut her eyes, took a steadying breath… and a hand grabbed hers with a violent jerk, dragging her off balance and sending her stumbling to her knees. Her eyes flew open, but all she could see was the confused expression of the dragon and the fingers of one hand gripping tightly to empty air. The other hand rested upon…

The invisible grip yanked her to her feet.

"Run!" Bilbo shouted as the dragon roared and charged.

Brie ran. She ran as the heat from the dragon's outrage exploded behind her, not looking back to see how close to death she had come.

 _Think furnace, with wings!_

Well. Bofur hadn't been wrong.

She stumbled through the maze of columns beneath the stairs, following the tugs and pulls of the invisible hand in hers. The dragon roared again as they burst from beneath the stairway and launched up the steps. But they didn't go all the way to the top, as Brie might have expected. Instead at the first landing, Bilbo dragged her through a small door into the cool, musty dark.

"Blast this thing!"

With a jerk Bilbo blinked back into existence, mopping at the sweat beading on his brow.

"Terribly useful, but not entirely practical just now," he gasped, slipping the little gold ring into his coat pocket, "If only it could be worn by two people at once..."

"What in the world are you still doing here?!" Brie exclaimed, taking her brother by the shoulders and shaking him, "You were supposed to get out, to warn the others!"

"What, and leave you for dragon-bait?" Bilbo snapped, "What do you take me for, a _Sackville-Baggins_?! Together or not at all, Briallen, that was what we agreed!"

Brie's throat closed around the tears she was holding back, so in lieu of words she clutched Bilbo to her chest, pressing a kiss to his sweat-damp temple. He let out a huff of indignation, but he clung to her for a moment all the same.

"Well, we can't just hang about here," he said finally, and as if in response, there was a thundering crash from the treasure room, followed by a furious roar, "Come on."

He lead Brie through the darkened corridor to another stone staircase, this one a bit less elaborate, but no less tall.

"We can't just run around in the dark!" Brie hissed as they started up the stairs, "We'll be lost forever! I think I'd rather be incinerated than starve to death."

"We aren't!" Bilbo insisted, "I wasn't just mucking about while you were down there playing riddle games! This stair leads up to the wide landing just below the entrance to the tunnel. If we can make that, we might just be able to reach the hidden door before Smaug realizes we've gone."

The dragon roared again and another crash rocked the mountain, sending dust and small chunks of rock cascading from the ceiling. Brie stopped questioning and lengthened her stride.

The hobbits flew up the stairs as if they had wings, sliding to a stop at the entrance to the platform, just as Bilbo had described. They peeked out. The dragon was nowhere in sight, though the blackened marks of his outrage could be seen streaking the walls in all directions.

"I have a bad feeling about this," Brie muttered, her blood running cold and her fingers itching for arrows (for all the good they'd have done).

Bilbo reached back and gripped her hand tightly. "Come on."

They slipped through the archway and padded frantically up the last flight of stairs. They turned the last corner… and nearly ran straight into a dwarf.

"Thorin!" Brie exclaimed, not sure whether to be pleased or furious. What on earth did he think he was doing?!

The dwarf-king blinked and turned from the treasure room at the sound of her voice, his face crumpling into the most profound expression of relief.

"You're alive," he whispered, reaching out with shaking hands to touch her shoulders, her face, her hair, as if to reassure himself that she was solid and real. Brie smiled, a little of her own relief loosening the knot in her chest.

"Not for much longer," Bilbo said, tugging Brie back to the present, "At least not if we loiter about here-"

"Did you find the Arkenstone?"

The knot tightened sharply around Brie's heart. Bilbo didn't seem to notice. He was already heading for the doorway.

"Thorin, the dragon's coming-"

"The _Arkenstone_!"

There was a clang and Bilbo bounced back, nearly stumbling over Brie. Thorin's sword blocked the archway. Brie swallowed thickly. Thorin stared at Bilbo, but it was as if he had never seen him before. As if they had never been friends.

"Did you find it?"

Bilbo blinked, startled.

"No," he said, "No, we have to get out-"

He tried to move forward again, but Thorin swung his sword and touched it to Bilbo's chest, pushing him back with just the slightest pressure.

"Thorin?" Bilbo squeaked.

Brie couldn't breathe. She could feel the weight of the stone in her pocket, dragging her down, down until she thought it might pull her to her knees. And she almost handed it over then, just to get them out of this accursed place, but something... something in Thorin's eyes, that unrecognizable look, as if they meant nothing to him...

 _I am almost tempted to let you take it… watch it destroy him… drive him mad_ _…_

 _You were only ever a means to an end…_

"Thorin, he doesn't have it," she said, pulling her brother back and placing herself at the point of his blade.

He blinked, then turned his head to the side, coolly, calmly, as if he were not in the process of scaring her half to death.

"He doesn't have it," Brie repeated firmly, "I would have seen if he did."

This was not, technically, a lie and Brie held on to that with every fiber of her being, willing the truth of her words to shine through. Thorin's brow furrowed and he looked down at his hand, holding the sword to Brie's chest. It dropped away and Brie took a ragged breath.

"I... I don't..."

Somewhere in the dark, stone clattered on stone and they all looked up. Brie covered her mouth to stifle a shriek. Smaug snarled in the shadows of the cavern, his eyes burning furiously.

" _You!_ "

"Briallen!"

With a roar of dwarven battle-cries, the rest of the company burst from the tunnel entrance. The Ri brothers surrounded and enveloped both hobbits into their midst, Nori's hand pressing Brie behind him as if to be sure she stayed put. Brie merely clutched to her dwarf-brother's coat, her knees weak with the relief of seeing him, and the sudden fear of what might happen to him now that he was here.

The Company of dwarves only gave Smaug the slightest pause.

"You will all _burn!"_

"Jump!"

As one, the Company turned and leapt from the landing, tumbling onto the treasure below. They rolled to their feet, Dwalin pulling Brie up by the hand when she wasn't quite fast enough.

"Come on!"

They sprinted through a nearby doorway and into the dark tunnels beyond, Brie not bothering to take in her surroundings. If she lost her grip on Dwalin's hand, she was dead anyway. The dragon roared and a tremendous wave of heat slammed them from behind. Brie was starkly reminded of how they would sometimes roast whole chickens in clay pots at home. If the heat had not been so intense that it compressed her lungs, she might have screamed. Dwalin turned abruptly and Brie careened into his arms, where he held her tight to his chest.

"Thorin!"

Brie turned toward the shout to see Thorin thrown into the room by the heat of the dragon's blast, his coat on fire. She cried out and lunged toward him, but Dwalin held her back. Thorin hit the floor on his shoulder, rolled twice, and came up on his feet, divested of his smouldering coat. He shook out his shoulders and Dwalin finally released his hold on Brie. She ran to him, taking his arm and searching his face anxiously, but he did little more than glance at her and take her hand.

"Come on."

They ran, Thorin leading the way, his steps certain and his grip on Brie's hand reassuringly firm. The dragon roared one final time, and then went suddenly, frighteningly silent. Brie could hear her own heartbeat pounding in her ears. She tried to look over her shoulder, but stumbled and had to be caught by Thorin.

"Stay with me, _nanginguh_ ," he whispered as he steadied her, "Don't look back."

"But where are we going?" Bilbo hissed from somewhere behind them.

"The western guardroom," Thorin said, stopping to peer through an entryway into a cavernous room of overlapping bridges, "There may be a way out."

"It's too high," Balin said, "There's no chance that way."

"It's our _only_ chance," Thorin murmured. He squeezed Brie's hand without looking at her, his eyes fixed on the shadows waiting for them beyond the archway. "We have to try."

They shuffled out of the tunnels and onto one of the narrow bridges. Brie did not look down, for fear that she might not want to see what lay below. She instead kept her eyes fixed on Thorin, on the wide set of his shoulders, and tried not to flinch at every scuffling sound the dwarves made. By the Green Mother, they were _loud!_

"We've given him the slip!" Dori whispered and Brie winced as his words echoed in her ears.

"No," Dwalin breathed, softer but still far too loud for Brie's comfort, "He's too cunning for that..."

Something hit the stone of the bridge and tinkled merrily in the cold, still dark. Everyone froze. Brie looked down. There was a coin lying at her feet, gleaming dully in what little light filtered down into this dark hole. She swallowed. Had that come from her? And more importantly, were there any _more_? She frantically ran her free hand over the folds of her jacket (carefully avoiding a certain inner pocket, no point, no use, _watch it destroy him, corrupt his heart..._ ), then to her hair, thinking something might be stuck in a braid, or ribbon, or...

Something else clattered behind her, sending gales of ringing noise into the darkness. Brie jumped and only Thorin's hand in hers saved her from toppling over the edge of the bridge. He pulled her gently toward him, pressing her to his chest with his free hand, clutching her hand even more tightly with the other. Brie looked at him, but his face was turned away. Turned upward. With her heart in her throat, Brie followed his gaze.

The dragon was unnaturally quiet. If it hadn't been for the loose coins and jewels scattering in his wake, Brie might never have known he was there. She held her breath as he moved over them, burrowing deeper into the warm comfort of Thorin's grip. She could hear his heart pounding in his chest and she shut her eyes, concentrating on the sound of it, trying not to think about what might happen if they were seen, if they were heard…

She felt Thorin let out a breath and knew the dragon had passed. He released his trembling hold on her shoulders and pulled her on by the hand. They made it over the bridge and broke into a run again, darting into another tunnel, this one so dark that Brie could see only the vaguest outline of Thorin's shape. She hoped she would not trip on something in the dark and go sprawling. Not only was she sure it would hurt, but it would make a terrible lot of noise.

"Just here," Thorin murmured, as they emerged into a long room with tall ceilings, "Everyone, stay close-"

He stopped so abruptly that Brie nearly ran into the back of him. It took only a moment to see why.

"Oh," she breathed, "Oh, Thorin…"

They looked a bit like disused china dolls, covered in dust and cobwebs, their skin brittle and broken in places, clothes threadbare and ravaged by time. It was as if some giant had grown tired of his playthings, piled them up in a haphazard sprawl against what remained of the guardroom doors, and then forgotten about them.

Some were smaller than the others. Children. They were children.

"That's it, then," Dwalin said, "There's no way out."

Thorin's hand slipped free of Briallen's and he walked toward the doors, as if still searching for a way, for something he might have missed. Brie's hand felt cold without him and she crossed her arms to keep from shivering.

"The last of our kin," Balin murmured, "They must have come here, hoping beyond hope."

An arm slipped around Brie's shoulders and she looked up. Nori was staring around the room as if he could picture it, the shattered hope, the despair, the fear and loss. Had he known some of these dwarves? Had any of them been familiar to him? Did it matter? Brie wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head upon his chest.

"We could try to reach the Mines," Balin said, resignedly, "We might last a few days."

"No."

Everyone turned to the sound of Thorin's voice. His fists were clenched. He was still staring at the doors.

"I will not die like this," he growled, "Cowering... Clawing for breath."

He turned to face them, his expression full of angry guile.

"We make for the forges."

"He'll see us," Dwalin said, "Sure as death."

"Not if we split up."

"Thorin," Balin insisted, "We'll never make it."

Thorin looked at Brie, his expression somehow apologetic, sad. "Some of us might."

Brie went rigid. She didn't like that look. She didn't like it one bit.

"We lead him to the forges," Thorin said, his steely gaze fixed and resolved, "We kill the dragon. If this is to end in fire, then we will all _burn_ together!"

* * *

It was a stupid plan.

It was also the _only_ plan, but that didn't mean Brie had to like it.

"I still don't understand why Brie can't stay with us," Bilbo said, frowning.

"We should not be more than three to a group," Thorin answered, adjusting the strap of his sword, "And it would be unwise to have two together that don't know the mountain. If we are… separated-" Brie heard him stumble over the word and crossed her arms over her chest. "-as long as you remain with at least one dwarf you should be able to find your way."

"I don't like it," Brie insisted.

He caught her eye and sighed, drawing her gently aside.

" _Ikrid-e,_ " he murmured, and when her frown only deepened at the incomprehensible word, he ran a hand over his face in frustration, " _Trust_ me, Briallen. I swear on my life I will keep your brother from harm-"

"I know."

"-and between your _kurdu-nadad_ and mine? You couldn't be safer."

"It's not _me_ I'm worried about!"

Thorin clenched his jaw and looked away. Brie's shoulders slumped and she felt her glare slipping into frustrated worry.

"Thorin," she insisted, "What aren't you telling me?"

He shut his eyes against the expression of pain that crossed his face.

"More than you could imagine," he whispered, rubbing his brow and looking around them, at the broken guardroom, at the dead, " _Amrad shurukruka mâ... ra zûyothur shaik..._ "

"That's _quite_ frustrating, you know," Brie said and he blinked at her, as if coming out of a daze, "The way you lot just throw this language about that I can't understand. How would you like it if I just started spouting Quenya? _Melin tirie hendutya sílale yá lalat!_ "

Brie didn't _actually_ speak much Quenya, and she was surprised this particular phrase was the one that came to mind first. She'd read it in a poem once, a long time ago, and was reminded of how much she loved the way the words formed on her lips, like something sweet and soft. To her surprise, a small smile twitched at Thorin's lips and the fire in his eyes smoldered to life.

" _Istamme quet' Noldorin, qui merilyes_ ," The language flowed off his tongue like water and Brie felt her breath stolen away as he leaned in closer, his words a soft murmur against her skin. " _Lavuvanyel ni-turien, melda tári._ "

Oh. Oh, now that was _really_ unfair, he even knew more _elvish_ than she did! Brie took a step back and crossed her arms, endeavoring to regain a bit of her stubborn composure as she processed as many of the words as she could manage.

"Well then, I _command_ you to look after yourself," she said, as imperiously as she could, "It would be a terrible shame if we made it all this way just to…"

Her throat closed. She couldn't say the word. Thorin stepped back and made her a sweeping, formal bow, one hand held over his heart.

" _Bêth anNi, inzilanî_."

Brie rolled her eyes. She didn't even think that was a real language!

"If the two of you are done showing off?" Nori asked, his arms folded, one braided eyebrow raised. Even Dwalin was eyeing them with something that resembled amusement, flicking one of his axes through the air in short, nervous gestures. Brie blushed and straightened her coat.

"Right," she said, "Fine. Come on, then."

She started toward the doors, but instead of following, Dwalin approached Thorin, slipping his axe onto his back and crossing his huge arms over his chest, glaring at the dwarf-king. Thorin met his eyes with no sign of softening, a stubborn expression of determination.

" _Samrazîn diya nusus, nadad_ _."_

Dwalin rolled his eyes.

"Aye," he said, "You know I will."

Then without warning, Dwalin reached out and clapped Thorin around the neck, pulling him in to bump their brows together.

" _Innik, lulkh-astû,"_ Dwalin growled, "I mean it."

Brie reached out and tugged Nori's sleeve.

"One of these days, Nori," she said, very deliberately, "Will you teach me Khuzdul?"

Nori wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

"Aye, sweet," he said, "It's a promise."

When Dwalin joined them again, Nori tentatively put a hand on his broad shoulder. To Brie's surprise, Dwalin reached up and covered the thief's fingers with his own, almost affectionately. She could not help but smile.

* * *

Taunting a dragon was considerably easier than one might have thought. Smaug took very little encouraging to chase after them, even after it became apparent that he was being toyed with. The dwarves darted in and out of tunnels, shouting and generally making a nuisance of themselves, and it worked beautifully. Brie, gasping for air and covered in sweat, was as surprised as anyone that it had worked. They turned the final corner, Dwalin leading the way in long, powerful strides.

They all three slid to a stop, Dwalin throwing an arm out to keep Nori and Brie behind him. At the end of the broad, cavernous corridor, stood a dwarf, tiny and alone, and between them crouched the huge, crimson back of the dragon, his long, thick tail twitching like a cat's.

"Follow Balin!"

Brie's blood froze in her veins and her heart stopped beating. Thorin. He was going the wrong way. He was _going_ the _wrong way!_

She was running before either of the dwarves could stop her, ignoring the burning of her lungs, the pain in her legs, the fact that she was too far, too late. The dragon charged and Thorin turned, ran, disappeared from sight.

"Thorin!" she screamed, but it was lost in the explosion of flame that burst from the dragon's throat, the heat and the force of it knocking her back.

She hit the stone floor on her side and saw Dwalin race past her in a blur. Nori paused to scoop her back onto her feet, and then shot off after Dwalin, Brie hot on his heels. The dragon had disappeared too, which didn't seem possible, considering…

"Thorin!" Dwalin shouted, looking down over the edge of a monstrous pit at the end of the hallway.

Brie scrambled to a stop before she tumbled over the edge and Dwalin swung his axe at a large piece of machinery with a clang that reverberated in her teeth. She looked down into the dark and nearly lost her balance. She could see the tail of the dragon streaming into the dark, past a tiny figure swinging wildly from a chain. The dragon twisted in midair as he shot past Thorin and snapped his massive jaws. The chain attached to the machine went taut and then strained with a whining creak of metal. Dwalin grabbed Brie about the waist and hauled her aside, as the entire assembly gave way and went crashing down into the dark.

"Thorin!" Brie screamed, struggling to see into the pit, " _Thorin!"_

There was another clang and a whirring whoosh as another machine sped into motion. Brie could feel the ground vibrating beneath them, and then the dragon roared as a blast of heat and smoke exploded into the air, expelling a dirty, bedraggled dwarf-king. Nori reached out and hauled Thorin up over the edge of the pit, just as a stream of fire erupted out of the dark, lighting everything around them.

"Go, _go_!" Thorin shouted.

Dwalin still had Brie about the waist and he dragged her bodily into the tunnel where Balin and Bilbo both waited with wide eyes.

"Put me _down_ , Dwalin!" Brie shouted, kicking and struggling, "I mean it!"

Dwalin dropped her to her feet and before she had properly processed what she was doing, she barrelled straight into Thorin.

"You _idiot!_ " she shouted, slamming into his chest and pounding him with her fists, "You complete, utter _lunatic_! If we get out of this, Thorin, I'm going to _kill_ you, you selfless, stupid-"

He gathered her into his arms, lifted her off her feet, and covered her lips with his, stopping the angry words in her throat. She didn't even have time to properly register that it had happened before it was over. She was back on the ground and he was grinning at her like a fool. She glared at him.

"That does not change the fact that I am still _very cross_ with you!"

Thorin laughed. "Aye, _nanginguh,_ I expect no less."

"The plan's not going to work!" Dwalin shouted, "These furnaces are stone cold!"

This reminded Brie of how entirely inappropriate it was that she was still clinging to Thorin as if her life depended on it (not to mention that they were still in very _real_ danger of being roasted alive). She pulled away and tugged on her coat primly, smoothing her wild hair back out of her face. Dori, Ori, and Bombur had just come running through the tunnel entrance, slipping through the lattice work that separated the dwarf forges from the rest of the cavernous room. Brie had never seen anything quite like it, forges bigger than Bag End, with metal smelting pots so deep they were half-buried in the rock and still too high to have any hope of seeing what lay inside them.

"He's right," Balin said, grimly, "And we've no fire hot enough to set them ablaze."

"Have we not?" Thorin growled, and Brie did not like the devious look he tossed her before he turned and strode to the gates.

"I did not look to see you so easily outwitted!" he shouted back into the dark, leaning through the metal lattice as if to make his voice carry farther.

"Thorin, what are you doing?" Brie squeaked. He ignored her.

"You have grown _slow_ and _fat_ in your dotage," he sneered, _"Slug."_

There was an ominous rumble from the dark beyond and Thorin turned to them, a wild, wicked grin on his face.

"Take cover."

He snatched Brie about the waist and pulled her behind a column of stone, pressing her back, shielding her from the blast of flame that came hurtling from the dragon's throat. Without thought she curled her fingers into his coat and burrowed into his chest, burying her face in the fur collar. Once the flame was gone, he tugged away, pulling her with him and shouting orders.

"Bombur! Get those bellows working!"

Bombur took off at a run and leaped with a whoop down into the pit below the smelting pots. A blue glow began to pulse beneath, set alight by dragon fire. There was a clanging bang and Brie squeaked, jumping into Thorin's side. He put an arm around her and kept shouting.

"Balin, can you still make a flash-flame?"

"Aye. It'll only take a jiffy," Balin assured him, his voice surprisingly calm and steady. He grabbed Dwalin and the Ri brothers on his way out. "Come on!"

There was another loud bang and a squeal of bending metal, followed by a roar of frustration.

"We don't have a jiffy..." Brie heard Dwalin mutter as he hurried past.

Then Thorin was shoving her toward her brother, pointing toward a huge handle on a raised stone platform.

"Bilbo, up there! Take your sister and on my mark, pull that lever!"

"What about you?" Brie cried, even as Bilbo was taking her hand and pulling her away, "Thorin!"

The dragon hit the metal grate again and there was a terrible, rending screech.

"Go!" Thorin shouted, running in the opposite direction.

Brie had no choice but to follow Bilbo, her heart slamming in her ribs almost as hard as Smaug was slamming into the metal barrier. The two hobbits raced up the narrow staircase and onto the small platform. The lever was much larger than it looked from below and much _higher_. Brie was not even sure they'd be able to reach it.

"We'll have to jump," Bilbo said, "I'll take the outside."

Brie decided that now was not the time to argue with him and positioned herself beside him, scanning the ground below for any sign of…

The metal bars shrieked apart and Smaug fell in on all fours with a massive thud that made both hobbits waver on their feet. The dragon snorted and his furious golden eyes fixed on them. Brie could feel ice-cold trickle through her veins and she tensed to meet the dragon's fire.

There was a shout and the dragon turned his head, snarling at the tiny figure that stood against him. Thorin. That _idiot!_ But Brie had no time to berate the fool dwarf any further, because just as the dragon was taking a breath, he pointed at the hobbits and shouted, "Now!"

They jumped simultaneously and latched onto the heavy lever. A stream of water exploded from the wall and hit the dragon with the force of steel. Smaug roared and stumbled, floundering in the steam rising from his skin as the fire in his breast was doused. He beat his wings wildly to escape the water and something lurched to life in the mechanics. The lines strung above them began to move.

"We need to get down!" Bilbo shouted, tugging on Brie's elbow, "Come on!"

Brie followed after him, eager to get her hands on Thorin and shake him until he stopped acting _ridiculous_! There were tiny pops of explosion, but Brie did not look to see where they were coming from. She assumed they were the flash-flames Balin had been working on, though what in the world had taken so long, Brie couldn't have guessed. There was a mighty crash and a roar and Bilbo shouted, "Get down!"

Brie dropped as a large metal bucket flew over their heads and took out a large chunk of the platform. Bilbo scrambled back to his feet and took Brie's hand, dragging her after him down the stairs. She caught a glimpse of the dragon, entangled in lines and more buckets, thrashing about entirely too close for comfort. His massive tail suddenly slammed into the stone at their feet and it crumbled away like muffin bread. Brie lost her footing and reached for Bilbo, but her hands grasped only empty air. She turned and tumbled and hit the floor with such painful force that it knocked the breath from her. She dimly heard someone shouting her name and she struggled to her feet. She couldn't linger here, if she didn't move soon Smaug would either find her or stomp her accidentally in his rage. And then Bilbo was there, scrambling over boulders and taking her arm, his expression hard and determined.

"Are you hurt?"

Brie still had not quite gotten her breath, but she shook her head and Bilbo tugged her upright as the dragon roared again.

"Come on!"

They ran, in what felt to Brie like a pell-mell sort of way, until she realized they were following a river. Or rather a series of rivers. And not just any rivers, but rivers of gold, molten and gleaming in the firelight of the forges. They were flowing toward a narrow opening in the far wall that dropped away into darkness.

"Jump!" Bilbo shouted and she did as he said.

They landed on a smooth stone slope that sent them skittering into the dark. There was a great boom and crash behind them, and the dragon roared, but Brie did not turn back to look. The hobbits hit the end of the slope running, their feet striking the stone with whaps of sound that seemed to echo all around them. They passed through a wide doorway and when Brie glanced up she nearly lost her footing. She could not even see the ceiling of the great hall, so high it was lost in complete darkness. The columns that lined the enormous walkway (easily large enough that four carts could have passed abreast) were like a forest of marble to either side and the surface of the floor was so smooth it was nearly glass-like.

But Brie did not have time to stare. She barely had time to see any of this before the dragon burst in behind them. She and Bilbo both turned, and immediately Brie wished they hadn't. The stone fell in a shower all around them and the banners that had lined the wall were gliding toward them, looking far more menacing and heavy than they might have looked fluttering prettily on the wall. Brie was not at all certain that a hobbit would survive the full weight of such a decoration coming to rest on them. She took Bilbo's hand and dragged him along, moving as fast as her feet would go, but still it was not enough. She felt the weight of the material hit her full in the back and force them both to the floor. But they were near the edge of the hanging, so it was not as heavy as it might have been. She felt Bilbo pull her into his chest and they curled together beneath the banner of the dwarves, both of them shaking as the vibration of the dragon's footfalls reverberated around them.

"Did you think you could deceive me, _Warg-Slayer_?"

Brie winced at the title, wishing fervently that she had said no such thing. The air beneath the banner was unbearably hot and there was a flash of flame in her mind's eye, a glimpse of white and the angry spitting words of the Defiler in that nasty grating language. Thorin bleeding… Thorin dying...

"You have come from Laketown!" the dragon said, and it was Bilbo's turn to wince, "I smelled it on you from the moment you set foot in my mountain! This is some sort of _scheme_ hatched between these filthy dwarves and those miserable cup-trading Lakemen. Those sniveling cowards with their longbows and black arrows!"

The dragon's voice cracked on those last words. Brie looked up, moved the thick cloth of the banner a little to see… Smaug was pacing, winding with sinewy anxiety through the maze of columns. Perhaps while his back was to them they could...

"Perhaps... it is time I paid them a visit."

Brie felt Bilbo tense and she looked down. All the color had drained from his face, his eyes wide, desperate.

"Bofur…"

And before Brie could stop him, he was on his feet, running toward Smaug's retreating back.

"Wait!" he shouted, fury and terror fighting for control of his voice, "They have nothing to do with this! You _cannot_ go to Laketown!"

At this impassioned declaration, the dragon paused. Brie caught up with her brother and grabbed him by the arm, but he remained where he was, eyes blazing. Smaug turned and fixed them both with his gleaming golden eyes.

"You _care_ about them, do you?" he snarled, and Brie could feel Bilbo tremble, "Good. Then you can watch them _die_."

" _No!_ "

Bilbo launched himself toward the dragon as he turned away, and even Brie holding him back did little to slow his progress.

"Bilbo, stop!" she pleaded, as he swung fists and feet against her, "Stop, you can't-!"

"Up here, you witless worm!"

Thorin's voice stopped Smaug in his tracks and paused Bilbo in his struggle long enough for Brie to get her arms around him and haul him back toward the columns, into the safety of the shadows.

Smaug turned back to the head of the hall, where the figure of a dwarf hung suspended in the air above what looked like a chained pile of rock. " _You_."

"I am taking back what you stole."

Thorin's voice echoed, menacing in the still dark of the hall, this hall built by his forefathers and meant to be his. Brie could not even find it within her to be angry at him for his recklessness, not when it was so obvious that this, _this_ was where he was meant to be.

"You would take _nothing_ from me, Dwarf," Smaug sneered, stalking forward, "I laid low your warriors of old. I instilled terror in the hearts of men. I am _King_ under the Mountain!"

"This is _not_ your kingdom," Thorin snarled and Brie shivered. "These are _dwarf_ lands, this is _dwarf_ gold! And we will have our revenge..."

The dragon was still moving. He was upright now, curling back as if to strike, like a snake. Brie wanted to shout, to cry out for Thorin, but the sound stuck in her throat and she only clung to Bilbo more tightly.

Then Thorin shouted, in that rough dwarven tongue that both intrigued and infuriated, and the mountain of rock fell away with a crack of snapping metal. It tumbled into the dark, leaving behind only gleaming gold. A mold. It had been a mold of a huge statue, a dwarf king, resplendent in his glory, fully as tall as Smaug so that the two were eye to eye. At first, Brie did not understand. Smaug did not move for several long heartbeats, as still as if he had been hypnotized by the shine of it.

And then it began to melt. No. No, it was more violent than that, the gold collapsed, sagging, bursting like a bubble that has been held too long in the air and can no longer support its own weight. It took many seconds for the dragon to comprehend what was happening and by then it was far too late. Brie grabbed Bilbo and dragged him back further into the columned forest, back from the thrashing of limbs and wings that flung molten gold into the air. It washed over Smaug like a liquid blanket and he fell beneath its weight with a gurgling roar that turned Brie's stomach. She looked away as the last of the dragon fell beneath the golden mantle and was lost to them. Silence fell.

It was done.

Brie took a breath and began to turn back, to see the aftermath of what they had done…

The golden floor exploded in a scream of pain and rage.

"Revenge?!" Smaug shrieked, as he lunged for the open end of the corridor, "I will show you _REVENGE!"_

Bilbo was out of Brie's stunned arms and running before she could even blink. She was after him in less than a breath, scrambling over the destruction Smaug left in his wake, broken stone and globs of molten metal. She felt the burst of cold as the dragon crashed through the outer wall, saw him whirl into the air, bright against the moonlight, gold glittering down in rapidly cooling flakes, like snow… always snow…

There was a powerful sound as the dragon snapped open his wings and flapped once. Then deadly silence as he glided across the dark water of the Long Lake. Brie caught up to Bilbo just as he hit his knees, staring out across the water. Toward Laketown.

Fili… Kili… Oin…

"Bofur…" Bilbo choked.

Brie covered her mouth with both hands as the dragon swooped out of the sky, now only a glow on the horizon as he prepared to strike.

"Merciful Mother," she breathed, as fire erupted, "What have we done?"

* * *

 **Khuzdul Translations:**

 _Nanginguh-_ my flower

 _Ikrid-e-_ Trust me.

 _Kurdu-nadad-_ Heart-brother

 _Amrad shurukruka mâ-_ Death surrounds us

 _Ra zûyothur shaik_ \- And still I am a coward.

 _Samrazîn diya nusus, nadad-_ Keep her safe, brother

 _Innik, lulkh-astû-_ Come back, you idiot.

 **Quenya Translations:**

 _Melin tirie hendutya sílale yá lalat-_ I love to see your eyes shine when you laugh.

 _Istamme quet' Noldorin_ \- We two can speak Quenya

 _Qui merilyes-_ If you wish it

 _Lavuvanyel ni-turien-_ I am yours to command

 _melda tári-_ beloved queen

 _Bêth anNi, inzilanî_ \- My word, flower-lady (This is Adûniac, and from my understanding is a completely dead language, so it's a bit like spouting off conversational Latin. Thorin's just showing off now, the little shit ;P)

I feel like I should take this opportunity to explain my reasoning behind Thorin being so well-versed in these languages. As the crown-prince, I imagine that his education was quite extensive, even concerning elves and their languages. He would need to be able to communicate for negotiations after all (and it's never a good idea to be in a room with your enemies and not be able to at least guess what they're saying), so I suspect that he was taught both Sindarin and Quenya at an early age. He simply chooses not to let the _elves_ know that he knows this ;P The Adûniac is just another sign of his education, like learning Latin. You might never use it for practical reasons, but you might be able to use it as a status symbol or a sign of higher education.

Also, this was probably the last fun scene I'll get to write for awhile, so indulge me please, I needed something to get me through the pain and angst! ;D


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N:** I have so many apologies to make! First, I'm sorry this chapter is a little shorter than you guys might be used to, but I _promise_ it is still important! Second, I'm sorry that I made you wait so long for it. I've been working feverishly on my Age of Ultron fanfic, and my original novel, I just let this one get away from me.

Third, and most importantly, I'm _very_ sorry, but this might be the last chapter you see on this fic for the next month or so. I've had a really hard time working on this story lately, not only because I've been so busy, but also because I've hit a rough patch in the story itself. I know where I want it to go, but I'm not quite sure how I want to get it there. I'm not abandoning the story (I am far too invested in this thing to do that!), instead I'm going to spend Camp NaNoWriMo in July writing out the ending :) However, I do want to take a little break before I do that, to get caught up on some things and clear my head. I really want this story to be the best that it possibly can be for you guys, I hope you understand that, and I really appreciate your patience as I take this time to figure everything out. You guys have been nothing but loving and supportive and I appreciate every one of you so, so much! Thank you, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Eight**

Brie didn't want to watch, but she could not, in good conscious, turn away. After all, she had done this. She had brought this destruction, this fire, this death onto the people of Laketown, people who had shown them kindness, given them shelter, provided for them. She had raised the dragon's ire with her stupid riddles and silly games. If she had just allowed him to eat her, would he have been satisfied? Would he have gone back to sleep and not roused to this…?

There was a muffled boom from across the water and she jumped, hugging her elbows, but she did not shut her eyes. She did not turn away.

"Poor souls…" Balin whispered, his voice cracked.

The dwarves stood all around her, but not one of them touched the others. They did not dare. They stood or sat or knelt in small islands of grief upon the rocks and watched as the conclusion of their folly rained down fire on their allies. Their friends. Bilbo had not moved from the place where he knelt, gazing out over the water. In the moonlight, Brie could see tears coursing steady and silent down his pale cheeks. She did not cry. It would blur her vision. And she would see this through, to the end.

She did not see Thorin. She had not seen him, though she knew he must be there, somewhere behind her in the dark. She did not dare turn to find him, to seek his comfort. What comfort could he offer her? His nephews- no, in truth those boys were more to him than that, they were his _sons_ , in all but name -they were down there, in the fire and ice. What comfort could he offer her, who had brought this on them all?

She thought of the little family, the bargeman and his children. The littlest girl, so bright in her smiles and talk of fairies. Brie felt her stomach clench and she nearly collapsed, but she resisted. She had to see. She had to see it all.

A roar echoed across the water, but this was different. This was more than rage. It was a scream, a screech like a bird that has been shot down. Brie saw a large shadow jerk and writhe in the dim light of the not-quite-dawn, the dragon Smaug above the town he had just been ravaging. And then he was gone. There was a boom, a crash, the sound of water and cracking wood. It was all so distant, so hard to make out…

"What was that?" Ori's voice squeaked out of the dark, "What happened?"

"He fell," Brie whispered, her voice hoarse with the unshed tears she had held back, "The dragon fell, I… I saw…"

The dwarves gathered around Bilbo, who still had not moved from the place where he sat, curled in on himself and weeping silently.

"He's dead," Brie said, hardly daring, because what if she jinxed it? It seemed impossible, but…

"By my beard, I think she's right! Look there!" Gloin said, pointing to the lightening sky. A flock of birds were winging their way over, back toward the mountain towering behind them, "The ravens of Erebor are returning to the mountain!"

"Aye," Balin said, "Word will spread. Before long every soul in Middle-earth will know: the dragon is dead!"

The dwarves cheered, but the sound was muffled in Brie's ears. She was still finding it difficult to believe. Dead? Smaug was dead? She turned back to the smoldering remains of Laketown, thought of what lay down there, of the dead that floated in the water, or now lay at the bottom of the lakebed. How could he be dead? How could they celebrate even this?

She dropped to her knees beside Bilbo. He had not stopped weeping and now she could hear one word repeated over and over between breaths, like a mantra, like a prayer.

"Bofur… Bofur… Bofur…"

Something cold shot down her spine, but she pushed it aside. No. No, it couldn't be that, she would have known, she would have _seen_ … They were friends, weren't they, Bilbo and Bofur? Friends who had been at odds on their last parting. That was what he mourned, surely, not…

She put her arms around him, pulled him into her lap where he lay curled there like a fauntling and continued to weep, still silent, his eyes wide and fixed, murmuring into her shirt.

"Bofur… Bofur… Bofur…"

* * *

"I'm going after them."

Bilbo was getting worse. It had been two days since the attack on Laketown and there was no sign of the missing Company members. Bilbo wouldn't eat. He wouldn't sleep. He just lay within the small chamber the dwarves had cleaned for a camp and wouldn't speak to anyone except to say he wasn't feeling well in a mumbled sort of distance that even Brie could not penetrate. It was her worst fears come to pass and it wasn't until Ori (in his young, innocent sort of way) had asked if it might be a hobbit-illness, that the whole thing had come spilling out of her.

"We call it _Fading_ ," she said, with clenched fists in an effort not to sound angry or bitter, "Some hobbits... grief affects us differently, especially when it is someone we… love. Sudden loss, painful partings- these things change us. Our family… My father..."

Her voice broke and she had to grit her teeth for a moment before she could continue.

"When we lost our mother to illness, my father… wouldn't speak to us. We were able to get food in him for a while, a bit of bread, soups. He wasn't ill. He just… Faded."

That was last night. Brie had woken up this morning, the third morning with no news, filled with a stalwart determination. She was _not_ going to just sit here, in this thrice-cursed mountain, and watch her brother Fade away before her eyes. Not if there was even the slightest chance that she could do something about it.

"I'm going after them," she repeated, her arms crossed, feet planted firmly in front of Thorin, a bag already slung over her shoulder and her coat wrapped snugly about her, "We should have heard something by now, I'm not going to just sit about and worry."

"We have more important things to see to," Thorin said, his gaze drifting away, lighting on the treasure that lay over her shoulder, gleaming in the fires of the lighted braziers.

The stone in Brie's pocket felt suddenly heavy and bulging. She wondered that it was not obvious for all the world to see. She loosened her grip on her coat and let it fall a little more loosely about her, but did not soften her stance.

"The stone will be found all that much faster if we have _everyone_ here searching for it," she argued, "Thorin, Fili and Kili-"

"Don't." He turned his burning eyes back to her, fierce but not angry. "Do you think I do not know? Do you think I do not see their faces? I cannot risk-"

"My absence does not put your quest at risk!" Brie exclaimed, frustrated, "I am only one, gone to retrieve _four_ more, I promise it will be of little consequence in the long-"

"Damn the quest, I cannot risk _you!_ "

Brie blinked and lost her breath. They hadn't talked about what had happened at the forges. It felt like a lifetime ago, so much had happened since then. Brie had been too worried about so many things: her brother, Bofur, Fili and Kili, the… _thing_ that weighed down her pocket and her heart, Smaug's whispers in her dreams at night.

 _...watch it destroy him… drive him mad…_

Thorin took a step and touched her shoulder, his eyes softening a bit. Brie felt the tension bleed out of her with the expression.

"Briallen," he murmured, "Please, I cannot risk sending you out there on your own. And surely you can see that I cannot spare another to go with you. You are right. If there were anything to hear, we would have heard it by now."

His hand trembled and Brie reached up to cover it with her own. Thorin shut his eyes and let out a long breath.

"We must go on," he said, "We must find what we came here seeking, or this, all of it, will have been for nothing."

He turned his gaze back, away from the treasure just for a moment, searching the dark, deserted tunnels for Brie knew not what. She squeezed his hand and he looked back at her.

"Bilbo is dying," she said, her voice breaking on the last word. It was the first time she'd even allowed herself the thought. "Please, Thorin. Please don't ask me to watch my brother die."

For a moment, he wavered. Brie could see it in his eyes, a slight shift in the blue. But then he set his jaw and Brie knew she had lost the battle.

"I'm sorry, _nanginguh_ ," he said, reaching up to cup her face, "But I need you here."

Brie set her own jaw and stepped back, deliberately out of reach of his hand. She saw his eyes flash with rage, so blinding that it made her heart jump in her chest. But then it was gone, hidden behind the stony expression that had graced his features more and more often the last few days.

"Gather the others," he ordered, turning away, "We'll begin in the western corner today."

"Yes, your majesty," she bit out, then turned before he could reply, before she could regret her anger.

She didn't need his permission. She didn't need anyone. She _was_ going. She was going to find Bofur, her brother's love, and bring him back so he would _not_ die. She was going to find Fili and Kili, and bring them back to their uncle, so he would stop looking at that treasure like it was all that mattered, and at _her_ as if she were merely another possession to add to his hoard. She was going to find Oin too, because while Gloin put on a brave face, he was as heartbroken as Bombur or Bifur and she could not stand it, not one moment longer!

She marched back into the camp, ignoring the others and making a straight line for Ori, patiently sketching next to a curled and silent Bilbo.

"I'm going," she said, causing Ori to look up surprised, "Watch Bilbo for me?"

"Of course," Ori squeaked, shutting his book and starting to scramble to his feet as she turned away, "But Brie, what-?"

"The rest of you," Brie said, surprised at the command in her voice as she raised it to address the Company, "His royal majesty, Thorin Oakenshield, has commanded you join him in the treasure room, the western corner."

Without another word, she turned to march out of the room, intending to slip into the darkness and be out the front gates before anyone thought to check her story or wonder at her absence. They could not go on like this. They could not…

There was a noise. A voice. An echo of an echo, barely audible.

"...Bilbo?"

She stopped, shocked to stillness. That had sounded like-

A blur shot past her as Ori cried out in alarm. "Bilbo!"

Brie was after him just as quick, hot on his heels as Bilbo scrambled up and over and through the rubble that permeated the inside of Erebor.

"Bilbo, wait!" she shouted, struggling to catch up, "It's not safe, _wait!_ "

But either he could not hear her or he did not want to, because he never slowed, sliding and leaping over obstacles she never would have thought possible as Bofur's voice echoed up to them from the far-away entrance.

"...Bombur? Bifur? Anybody? Bilbo?"

The hobbits skidded into the front hall, and there they all were, all four of the missing dwarves, standing in the sunlight filtering through the broken gates and looking barely the worse for wear. Bilbo never hesitated. He barreled down what remained of the broken steps and collided with Bofur so forcefully that the dwarf was nearly knocked off his feet, frantically grabbing for that ridiculous hat with one hand and laughing as he pulled Bilbo closer with the other. Brie could hear Bilbo's muffled sobs as she caught up to them.

"...sorry, I'm sorry, I'm such a fool, I'm sorry…"

"There, lad, there now," Bofur soothed, both arms around him now, one hand running gently through his curls, that perpetual smile on his lips, "S'alright now, we're alright…"

"Brie!" Fili threw his arms around her and lifted her from her feet, twirling her in happy exuberance. "Mahal bless, you're alive! Where's Thorin and the others?"

Brie's blissful, relieved joy was jerked out from under her like a rug. Kili saw her expression falter before his brother did and moved forward a step, limping only slightly.

"Brie?" he asked, "What happened to your face?"

Brie blinked at him for a moment and then remembered the scratch that was still healing on her cheek. She covered it with her hand and shook her head, trying to smile away the trickle of anxiety in her chest.

"Nothing," she said, "It's nothing, just a scratch. The others are fine too, it's just…"

She trailed off, not quite sure how to describe… the look in his eyes… the _anger…_

"Brie," Fili said, his hands firm on her shoulders, "Where's Thorin?"

She looked up into his bright blue eyes, so serious now, so solemn and fierce. So like his uncle.

"I think you should go," she said. The dwarves (and Bilbo, still clinging to Bofur as if he planned to remain glued to him for the rest of his long life) all stared at her. "Take Bilbo with you, in fact, but I think you should all go, leave the mountain at once."

"What, leave?" Kili exclaimed, incredulous, "But we've only just gotten here, and may I tell you it wasn't exactly a cake walk!"

"I know, I _know_ , it's just…" Brie was wringing her hands now, because Fili was not looking at her anymore, his eyes had wandered off behind her, something had stolen his attention. "Please, something is wrong here, there's a… sickness. It's this place, I've _tried_ talking to him, but he doesn't _listen_ and I… Fili?"

The blonde dwarf had taken a few steps, his brow furrowed as if in concentration. And Brie didn't like where his feet were leading him at all.

"Fili?" she tried again, but he didn't answer her.

He started walking in earnest, and Brie glanced behind her beseechingly, hoping the others would take her meaning and flee, but they didn't. Instead they all moved forward, as if pulled by invisible strings to follow wherever Fili led, drawn by the call of his blood, the heir to the throne of Erebor. Fili broke into a jog and then into a run, the others following as best they could behind him, though Kili was a little slower, limping on his leg and Brie lagged behind with him, all the while muttering to herself.

"Oh this is bad, this is very bad…"

Fili slid to a stop on a platform overlooking the treasure and the others gathered up behind him. Brie remembered what it was like to stand in this very spot, to see the waves of gold shining in the dim light, stretching as far as the eye could see. She had thought it tedious before. Now she hated it, a spark that had fanned into a flame with hours spent searching for something she had already found, but did not have the heart to reveal. And all the while feeling something fundamentally _wrong_ with it, as if there were a film on every coin, every piece of jewelry, feeling the need to wipe her hands and feet after touching anything in this accursed place.

But what was worse, even than that, was watching Thorin when he thought no one was looking. The way his hands lingered, almost caressing, the way his eyes fed on the gleam, the way he stepped as if afraid of disturbing a precious sleeper. The way he looked now as he stepped out of the shadows, murmuring to himself in the dark. And Brie did not want his nephews, his _sons_ , to see that. She might be angry beyond anything she had ever felt toward him, but she did not wish that for him, not ever.

"Thorin!" she called with a forced cheerfulness, pushing her way through and descending the steps down to the treasure with deliberately light feet, "Thorin, look! It is Fili and Kili! And Bofur and Oin! They came back, Thorin!"

She reached him and clasped his arm. He jerked, surprised by her presence, staring at her as if he were lost. Then he smiled and touched her face. It was like watching him wake from a dream. Brie felt her heart break a little, but she tried not to let it show through her smile.

"Thorin, look," she whispered, directing his gaze up to where the others still stood, staring down at them with wide eyes and unreadable expressions, "Your nephews, Thorin. They're alright."

She felt a shudder pass through him and then he straightened, his expression muted and strange. Brie took a step back, a step away. She didn't understand. This wasn't how it was supposed to look. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen.

"Behold!" he shouted and tossed something at Fili, which the youngling caught easily in his hand, "The great treasure hoard of Thror!"

It was a blood-red jewel, uncut and shining in the light. It made something within Brie turn cold at its sight. Thorin spread his arms wide.

"Welcome, my sister-sons!" he proclaimed, "To the kingdom of Erebor!"

* * *

 **A/N:** I know! There wasn't much to that chapter (even though it was important, as you will all see later. I promise it wasn't just a filler!) and I know I'm leaving you there for quite a while. I will be back to regular posting just as soon as I'm able, I promise! Thank you all again for your patience with me! :)


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N:** I'm back! And sooner than I thought I would be too :) I've decided that my problem was/is that I am entirely over-thinking this thing and really letting it get to me. So I'm just going to toodle along my merry way forward with what I had planned to happen since the beginning and let the chips fall where they may :) If you hate it, feel free to let me know (and some of you probably will hate it), but we are pushing through to the end! Let's do this!

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Nine**

"It is here... in these halls. I know it."

Brie shifted anxiously and exchanged a glance with Bilbo. He was pale, but Brie could not tell if that was simply an effect of his near-Fading, or if he felt as uncomfortable as she did. She hated the throne room almost as much as she hated the treasury. Almost. The dark chasms and the broken throne held their own ghosts, but at least it didn't feel as if something was trying to claw up her leg every time she put her foot down. At least it didn't feel as if she were drowning.

"Thorin," Dwalin said, "We have searched and searched—"

"Not well enough."

"We all would see the stone returned—"

"And yet, it is still not _found_!"

Brie flinched as Thorin whirled on them, the echo of his roar ringing in the emptiness.

"Do you doubt the loyalty of anyone here?" Balin asked, so calm, so steady, so _reasonable_.

Thorin took a step toward him and Brie stepped too, stepped in front of the old dwarf, between him and the king.

"Thorin..." she said, her voice trembling a little.

Thorin barely acknowledged her. He put a hand on her shoulder, almost absently, but his gaze still rested on Balin, narrowed and angry.

"The Arkenstone is the birthright of our people," Balin said, still sounding frustratingly sensible.

"It is the _King's_ Jewel," Thorin snarled, "Am I not the _king?!"_

"Thorin," Brie said again, her voice a little more steady now, prying away the fingers he had dug into her shoulder and clasping them in both of hers.

He stopped his advance and stared at her, at his hand in hers. His brow furrowed, as if he couldn't quite remember where he was. Brie's heart dropped. He'd looked at her like that more and more these last few days. His fingers wrapped around hers gently and squeezed. Brie let out a breath and smiled, feeling the warmth of his grip travel from her fingers to her chest.

"Know this," he said, his eyes still fixed upon their hands, "If _anyone_ should find the stone, and withhold it from me…" He turned his glaring eyes on Dwalin, and Balin, and Bilbo, "I will be _avenged_."

His hand slipped from hers and he was gone, stalking off into the dark, back to the treasury, back to the gold.

Away from her.

Brie's hands felt ice-cold and she thought the weight of the rock in her pocket might pull her straight down into the earth. Perhaps that was where she belonged.

 _I will be avenged…_

 _You have been used, Thief in the shadows..._

"Come on, lass."

Dwalin was holding out his hand to her, his eyes dark wells of emotion in a staunchly neutral face. Brie swallowed and straightened her shoulders before she took his hand and let him help her down from the empty dais. Bilbo put an arm around her shoulders as they left the throne room behind.

* * *

" _Dragon-sickness,"_ Balin called it. " _I've seen it before…"_

Brie slumped against the wall, curling her legs up into her chest and burying her face in her knees. She was shaking. Would they never be free of Smaug? Would he always haunt these halls? Would he always haunt her thoughts?

 _Watch it destroy him… drive him mad…_

Something had to be done. She couldn't keep doing this, dancing about, _pretending_. But what was she to do?

" _If Thorin… had the Arkenstone…"_

She took a deep, shaking breath and dipped her hand into her pocket.

" _...if it were found…"_

She could feel the smooth surface of the stone, nestled in a dirty cloth, emanating a steady warmth against her palm.

" _...would it help?"_

She pulled the bundle from her pocket, felt the weight of it in her palm.

" _No, my dear… I fear it would make it worse."_

"What is that?!"

Brie's heart hit her throat and she shoved the cloth back into her pocket, her eyes flitting over the darkened hallway. But there was one there. Thorin's voice was coming from an open doorway a little way down.

"It— It's nothing." Bilbo's stuttering voice had Brie on her feet in a moment, her heart hammering.

"Show me!"

There was a long pause. Brie remained frozen in the dark, not sure if she should go, if she should stay, if she should...

"...I picked it up in Beorn's garden."

"You've carried it all this way."

Thorin's voice was softer now, and Brie relaxed a little, unclenching her fists and sagging into the stone. She could feel it humming against her back, but she wasn't sure if that were the _kelur'abani_ or her own frazzled nerves.

"I'm gonna plant it in my garden, in Bag End."

"That's a poor prize to take back to the Shire."

She slid down the wall and buried her face in her knees again.

"One day it'll grow. And every time I look at it, I'll remember. Remember everything that happened, the good, the bad…"

Tears were leaking from her eyes. She couldn't do this. She couldn't keep doing this.

"...and how lucky I am that I made it home."

"Thorin!"

Brie sat up with a start at the sound of Dwalin's voice, wiping her eyes.

"Survivors from Laketown," he said, "They're streaming into Dale. There's hundreds of them!"

"Call everyone to the gate." Thorin's voice was sharp again, hard-edged and commanding. "To the gate, now!"

* * *

If there was one thing to be said for dwarves, it was that they were shockingly efficient. Within an hour of the order being give, the gaping hole that had once been the ruins of Erebor's gates was almost completely impenetrable. Bofur gave most of the direction as seemingly random bits of stone rubble were dragged up from all corners of the entryway and stacked together in the wide opening, almost as if they had been perfectly fitted for this exact task. If Brie hadn't felt so incredibly cold at the thought of being walled into this tomb of a place, she might have been impressed.

"I want this fortress made safe by sun-up," Thorin ordered striding past her without a second glance, "This mountain was hard won. I will not see it taken again."

"The people of Laketown have nothing!" Kili exclaimed, tossing down a wheelbarrow of stone in disgust, "They came to us in need. They have lost _everything_."

"Do not tell me what they have lost," Thorin snapped, "I know well enough their hardship."

"If you know it so well, will you not help them?"

The words leaving her mouth surprised Brie as much as anyone. But she felt a sudden surge of desperate fury, the need to say something, _anything_ , to stay this… She marched up to Thorin and stood toe-to-toe with him, glaring up into his furious face with every ounce of dignity she could muster.

"Is that not what you wished for, when the dragon took your home from you? For _someone_ to show you kindness, to take you in, to help you in your hour of need?"

"No one helped us!" Thorin shouted, "No one came to our aid!"

"And how is that the fault of the Lakemen?" Brie shouted back, "How have their _starving children_ wronged you, Thorin, that you would turn a deaf ear to their cries?"

"That their children live at all is enough cause to rejoice," Thorin snarled, turning away from her, "Those who have lived through dragonfire have much to be grateful for. Bring more stone!"

Brie took two steps toward him, fire burning in her blood, but someone reached out and pulled her back.

"No, sweet," Nori murmured, wrapping his arms around her trembling form, "It's no good. Let it go, _namad_. Let him go."

She pulled free of his arms and marched off, before the others could see her cry.

* * *

"A bargain was struck!"

"A bargain?" Thorin snarled, his ire rising with every second spent speaking to this vagrant, this begging _child_ , "What choice did we have but to barter our birthright for blankets and food? To ransom our future in exchange for our freedom? You call that a fair trade? Tell me, Bard the Dragonslayer—" The Lakeman looked surprised by this moniker and that pleased Thorin a bit, made him feel more at ease, brought a smirk to his face. "Why should I honor such terms?"

Yes. Why should he give away what they had fought so hard to reclaim? Had they not escaped the elves of Rivendell, fought the goblins of the Misty Mountains, the orcs of Azog, the spiders of Mirkwood, slipped beneath the noses of even Thranduil's guards? All for what? To simply give away what they had come so far for? Had they not suffered too?

"Because you gave us your word," Bard said, earnestly, "Does that mean nothing?"

Something struck a chord, vibrating in Thorin's chest and suddenly he couldn't breathe. He pulled away, leaned back against the steady wall and shut his eyes, letting the power of the stone shore up his muscles, the _kêlur'abani_ of his kin, past and present, new structure from old, the power of so many dwarves filling his trembling body. It was… too much. There was such a cacophony in his mind, in his heart…

A tiny hand slipped into his, delicate and strong. He opened his eyes and looked down into the wide, hopeful eyes of Briallen, his _nanging_ , the most lovely thing to come out of all this horror. The world seemed to center around her, to harden into crystalline clarity. _Mahal,_ how he loved her. He touched her cheek and she smiled. It was like sunlight bursting into the mountain, lighting the way. He would do anything for her. He would do _anything_ to keep her safe. To treasure her and give her everything she was due.

How could he do that, if he was handing it all out to beggars and vagabonds? How would he ever be worthy of her, if he did not stand strong against those who would drain this mountain dry? What would he give her, if he could not give her everything?

"Begone!" he shouted into the hole where the worm still waited, the snake that would sneak in through the cracks, "Ere arrow fly!"

The clatter of hooves was a welcome answer to his declaration. He pressed his lips to Briallen's trembling fingers and then went to make ready. For as much as Bilbo fussed and complained, he was right. War was coming. And he had to keep her safe. No matter what that cost.

* * *

Brie watched with uneasy trepidation as the dwarves armed themselves from the ancient stores deep within the mountain. Nori, Dwalin, Fili, Kili, even Ori… All of them in armor and carrying weapons that seemed too big for them, too weighted with responsibility and death. She gripped the strap of the quiver slung across her back, filled to bursting with silver arrows. No, not silver. _Mithril_ , Kili had called it, lighter than air and strong enough to pierce any armor. The bow was simple enough, strong and solid, the wood treated against rot and restrung from Kili's own pocket. But it still felt heavy on her back, weighted with her mounting guilt. She had done this. She had brought the dragon down upon the Laketown people, had taken everything from them, their homes, their livelihoods, their lives and families. How could she take any more?

"Who gave that to you?"

She jumped and turned. Thorin stood in the doorway and for a moment he was so breathtakingly magnificent that she forgot how much he had changed. His golden armor rippled over his form as if it had been poured over him rather than fitted, glinting in the torchlight. His gauntleted hand rested on an ornate sword hilt as if it had been meant for nothing less and his eyes flashed brilliant blue in his determined face. Green Mother, she loved him. She really, _truly_ loved him, and the realization was a painful jolt in her chest.

"Kili," she said, when she finally got her breath back, "He found it in the armory, managed to get it restrung for me. I thought I might take a position on the wall, hold—"

"No."

Brie blinked.

"Sorry?"

"You won't be on the wall," Thorin said, stepping more fully into the hall, straightening to his full height, "I want you to stay inside the mountain, where it's safe."

"But," Brie stuttered feeling quite put off balance, "But what about the others? What about Bilbo?"

"I've taken care of Bilbo," Thorin said, smiling indulgently at her, "We'll keep him safe as best we can. But you…"

He trailed off and put a heavy gauntleted hand on her shoulder, his eyes roving her face.

" _Asti uruklai, nanginguh,_ " he said, smiling at her, "I would not risk you for all the gold in this mountain."

He leaned down and pressed his lips to her forehead. Brie could not help closing her eyes and relishing the gesture, though she knew the next words she spoke would ruin everything.

"I can't."

He stiffened. His grip on her shoulder tightened until it was nearly painful. Slowly, he leaned back so that she could see his face. His eyes were burning.

"What?"

Brie stiffened herself, tightening her grip on the strap of her quiver.

"I can't, Thorin," she said again, "I… I did this. I brought the dragon's rage down on the people of Laketown. And I will not hide in this mountain, safe from their wrath, as if it were nothing to do with me!"

"You owe them _nothing_ ," he snarled and Brie winced, "They are playing on your gentle heart, Briallen, _using_ you! And I will not stand for it!"

"Thorin—"

"You will do as I say," he said, turning away from her, "I cannot risk your feminine sentiment in the heat of battle. Is that understood?"

Brie was so shocked she could barely find words. She just stared at him, and the words he had spoken on the road outside Hobbiton (oh, so long ago, it felt now) came floating back with painful clarity.

 _...the whims and fancies of a sheltered mother hen..._

Was that really all he thought of her? Even after all this time?

Thorin did not wait for her to find an answer. He turned and strode from the room, leaving her behind, her heart aching.

* * *

It was late. Even within the mountain, where neither sun nor moon gave any light, Brie knew that she should be sleeping. She should be with the others, with her brothers. It might be the last time. She bit her lip, stilling the tremble. She would not cry. Not any more. The time for tears was over.

She huddled down into a dusty corner of an old scroll room that Balin had been working through, the scent of old parchment reminding her of her father's books back at Bag End. It was the only place in this thrice-cursed mountain that brought her any kind of comfort. She had shed her tears before, and now she was empty, hollow and numb. The lump in her pocket pressed into her side and, without any emotion, she pulled it out, unwrapping the cloth. The Arkenstone sat within her palm, warm like a fresh egg, gleaming as if in invisible candlelight. She turned it over in her hands, trying to understand it, trying to see what it was about this chip of rock, that might make a dwarf like Thorin Oakenshield turn so completely against himself. It was incomprehensible to her... such a little thing...

There was a sound, a slight scrape on the stone and, quick as a blink, she slipped the rock up into her sleeve.

"Brie?"

She sighed and relaxed a little. It was only Bilbo. Her brother padded cautiously into the room, stepping carefully around the haphazard stacks of books and scrolls, staring around him as if he were afraid that ghosts might come seeping through the walls. No hint remained of his Fading now, and for that she was grateful. She did not know what she might have done if she had lost Bilbo.

"What are you doing up here?" he asked, sinking to the floor in front of her.

"Is Bofur with you?" she asked. Bofur was nearly always with him now. That was good too. He would keep her brother safe, if it came down to it.

But Bilbo shook his head and Brie let out another little breath of relief. It was not that she didn't trust Bofur. It was just that… well, she didn't quite know _who_ to trust.

"No one's even noticed you're gone," Bilbo said, "How long have you been up here?"

Brie shrugged, mindful of the weight pulling at her sleeve.

"A while." She glanced around at the dusty shelves and dark stone. "I don't know what to do. I'm no good at this."

"I don't like it either," Bilbo said, rubbing his nose in a gesture of agitation that made Brie smile despite herself. "Thorin's really gone too far this time. Perhaps if we'd only found the Arkenstone, we could have—"

"I found it."

The words slipped from her mouth as easily as water. She hadn't really meant to tell him. She hadn't meant to tell anyone, not until she knew what to do. But... it was Bilbo. If anyone could help her...

"What?" he squeaked, "Where? When?"

"When we were escaping the dragon. It was just... lying there..."

 _I am almost tempted to let you take it..._

"You've had it this whole time?"

Brie nodded. Carefully, she slipped the jewel out of her sleeve and held it cupped in her palm for him to see. It caught on its own light, sparkling and shimmering, reflecting shards of color onto Bilbo's face. His eyes went wide, staring at the jewel for a moment. Then he scrambled to his feet and started wringing his hands.

"We should tell Thorin," he said, "We need to tell Thorin, so he can end this, we can just end all of this and go home!"

"Do you _really_ think that would be a good idea?" Brie asked calmly, patiently. Bilbo was panicking, and she needed him to stop. She needed his Baggins brain. She needed him to _think_. Because she couldn't anymore. Not with any degree of clarity.

Bilbo stopped wringing his hands for a moment and stared at her, confused. Then, as if he'd suddenly realized what he was saying, he slowly sank back down to the floor. He watched for a moment as the stone slipped smoothly back and forth between Brie's hands.

"We're losing him, Bilbo," Brie whispered, absently following her own movements as if they were out of her control, "I'm going to lose him. Maybe we already have."

Back and forth, back and forth the stone moved, shining and glowing and throwing light wherever it went.

"What are you going to do?" Bilbo asked softly.

Brie shook her head, the stone ceasing its movement and cradled in her palm, warming her numb fingers.

"I don't know," she whispered, "But it can't stay here. I can't keep doing this."

There was silence. Brie could almost hear her brother's thoughts turning over and over in his head.

"We are owed a share of the treasure," he said finally, almost as if speaking to himself, "It's in the contract."

"One fourteenth of total profits, if any." Brie recited mechanically. It felt like a lifetime since she'd read those words in Balin's flowing script, in the comfort of their hobbit hole. It had seemed fair at the time, more than fair really, if what the dwarves had said of the mountain was true. And it had been, and more besides...

"How much do you think Laketown is owed?" Bilbo asked.

Brie flinched. Laketown. She did not want to think about Laketown, about the starving, homeless Men... Bard... His children...

"And the elves?" Bilbo continued, "How much do you think would appease them?"

Brie jerked hard at that, almost dropping the stone in her hand. Something flashed before her eyes, a swirl of snow and blood, and she blinked it away. She did not want to appease the elves... She did not want to _look_ at the elves…

Bilbo's hand appeared in her line of vision and covered the stone, blocking its light.

"How much do you think Thorin would pay..." he said softly, "...to get it back?"

Brie's mind went blank. She didn't understand. Frantically, she forced her mind to reevaluate everything that Bilbo had said.

 _We are owed a share of the treasure..._

 _How much is Laketown owed...?_

 _How much would Thorin pay...?_

 _One fourteenth of total profits, if any..._

 _How much would Thorin pay...?_

Her stomach rolled. She was going to be sick. She clenched her fist around the stone and Bilbo gripped her hand beneath his, holding her steady. She closed her eyes. She couldn't catch her breath. She gasped for air, but it caught in her throat and she thought she was choking, drowning. She couldn't... She _couldn't_...

He would never forgive her. Never.

But people were going to die. Dwalin. Bard. Nori. Bilbo. So many people would die.

"It's alright, Brie," Bilbo said, his arms around her, rocking gently back and forth, "It's alright. You don't have to go. I'll go, I'll do it. You don't have to."

But Brie gripped the stone even tighter, until her fingers ached. No. It had to be her. If she was going to betray him... the one she _loved_... then she would do it herself. She would not hide within this mountain and pretend it wasn't happening.

It had to be her.

* * *

 **Khuzdul Translations:**

 _Kêlur'abani_ \- life of the stone

 _Namad-_ sister

 _Asti uruklai_ \- You are too precious

 _Nanging/nanginguh_ \- flower/my flower


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter Thirty**

Brie waited at the bottom of the steps while Bilbo went up ahead. Bofur was on guard, and while it pained Briallen to use her brother's love in this way, it was the best chance she had to get away without being noticed. Her fingers closed around the small gold ring in her pocket as she started to count to ten. _"A loan,"_ Bilbo had called it when he'd reluctantly handed it over, _"You'll need all the help you can get."_

She finished counting and slipped the little gold band on her finger. The world went dismally gray and fuzzy at the edges, and she felt cold seep in through her skin, different from the cold fear that was already pulsing through her veins. This cold felt… dark, somehow. She thought she heard a rumble, the scraping of scales on stone, and she rushed up the stairs without looking back to check. To go looking for ghosts was only an invitation to madness.

She made the top of the wall and slipped off to the side, away from the light of the fire burning in the brazier over the gate.

"You should be inside," Bofur was saying, "Out of the wind."

Brie crouched in the shadows and watched as Bilbo warmed his hands over the flames.

"No," he said, "I… needed some air. The place still stinks of dragon."

Bofur hummed as if in agreement, but he was eying Bilbo strangely. Brie stiffened. Had they been found out already?

"The elves have been moving their archers into position," the dwarf said casually, "It'll all be over by tomorrow's eve. Though I doubt we will live to see that."

"No," Bilbo said, distracted, "No, these are dark days."

Bofur was openly staring at Bilbo now over the firelight. He looked… sad. Brie felt her chest clench as she realized how much Bofur must love her brother. How had she not seen it before? Had she really been so wrapped up in her own troubles and worries that she had missed something so blatantly obvious? She ached for Bofur, for how much they all had missed.

"Dark days indeed," he murmured, "No one could blame a soul for wishing themselves elsewhere."

Bilbo's head snapped up. Bofur only smiled at him, then looked up at the moon.

"Must be nearly midnight," he said, casual again, forced, "Bombur's got the next watch. It'll take a bit to wake him."

And with no more than that, Bofur turned and began to clomp down the stairs. Brie could see Bilbo hesitate, fumble about from foot to foot. Then he whispered into the dark "Good luck, Brie." and hurry toward the stairs. "Bofur, wait!"

The dwarf stopped, looked up.

"I'll… I'll come with you."

Bofur looked confused for a moment, his brow furrowed beneath his silly hat. Bilbo wrapped his arms around himself and glanced up nervously into the sky.

"You're right," he said, "It really is too cold to be out in the wind."

Bofur's smile was rueful, but he held out his hand.

"Well," he said, "Come on then."

Bilbo took his hand and together they disappeared down the stairs. Brie wiped her eyes on her sleeve and quickly tied her bit of rope to the metal ring protruding from the stone, launching herself over the side of the wall and out into the night.

* * *

Though the colorless swirling void was unnerving, Brie thought she could certainly understand her brother's fondness for the little magic ring as she slipped completely undetected between two elven guards, resplendent in their shining golden armor and neither the least bit aware of her presence. She sidestepped a group of Men with just as much ease, keeping close to the tent walls and wondering where on earth she was meant to go when she heard a surprisingly familiar voice cut through the general clatter of the camp.

"You, Bowman! Do you agree with this? Is gold so important to you that you would buy it with the blood of dwarves?!"

With a hopeful jolt, Brie took off running toward Gandalf's voice, dodging between the legs of unsuspecting elves and Men.

"It will not come to that." That was Bard, the bargeman, and Brie could see them both now, looking off toward the distant mountain. "This is a fight they cannot win."

"That won't stop them!" Brie exclaimed, almost forgetting to pull the ring off her finger as she stepped from the shadows, catching her breath while the two Big People stared at her in surprise, "If you think the dwarves will surrender, they won't. They will fight to the _death_ to defend their own."

"Briallen Baggins!" Gandalf exclaimed, truly sounding as if he had never been happier to see someone in all his long life. Brie could not help but smile at him.

"And where have _you_ been, may I ask?" she said, straightening up and planting her fists on her hips.

"You may not," Gandalf said, firmly but fondly, "At least not now, when there are far more important things to worry about. Namely, why you've come sneaking all the way from the mountain in the middle of the night. And where is your brother? Are the others well?"

"Bilbo is fine, everyone's… fine," Brie said, hesitating, "Well, as fine as can be expected when there's an army of tree-shagging _elves_ on our doorstep."

Gandalf raised an eyebrow.

"You've been spending too much time in the company of dwarves, I think."

"I've my own reasons to dislike this particular lot, Gandalf," she said, glaring at him, "And it's nothing to do with dwarves."

Something flickered at the edges of her vision, a flurry of white that might have been snow, but she ignored it. Gandalf regarded her much more seriously now, gripping his staff a bit more tightly.

"Yes," he said finally, "I can see that there is much I have missed in my absence. I am sorry, Briallen."

Brie deflated, too tired to continue trying to be angry.

"It doesn't matter," she said, rubbing her face and turning to Bard, "I haven't come to rehash old grudges, I've come with a proposal."

"A proposal?" Bard asked, sounding hopeful, "From Thorin? Has he finally seen sense?"

"From me," she said pointedly, "And Bilbo too, I come on behalf of us both. I'll explain everything-" She grimaced against what came next. "-if you'll take me to Thranduil."

* * *

The Elvenking was draped into a chair that looked incredibly out of place in a tent, even one so fine as this. Brie thought she could detect the smallest hint of a smirk on his placid face as he gazed down at her.

"Hello again, _perianig_."

Brie stiffened and a flash of swirling white obscured her vision for a moment before she blinked it away. Thranduil did not appear to notice the effect of his words. Either that or he did not care. He continued to gaze down at her with a little shimmer of smugness in his sharp eyes.

"Or should I say Queen Under The Mountain? Do you come to beg for the life of your _melethron-naugol_?"

"Miss Baggins will do quite nicely, thank you," Brie bit out, "And I've not come to beg for anything. I've come to bargain. With this."

Before she lost her nerve (or her temper) Brie took the cloth-wrapped bundle out of her pocket and set it on the table, allowing the wrapping to fall away. The light flashed briefly, as if glad to be released, before it settled into a steady glimmer of rainbowed light. That got the tree-shagger's attention. Thranduil shot to his feet, almost as if in alarm, his eyes fixed on the stone.

"The heart of the mountain," he gasped, "The King's jewel!"

"And worth a king's ransom," the bargeman muttered, turning suspicious eyes on her, "How is this yours to bargain with?"

Brie met his dark gaze with stubborn determination. "Bilbo and I have claimed it as our fourteenth share of the treasure. Our contract was very explicit. Any fourteenth is ours, to split between us as we see fit."

She thought she caught a glimpse of a smirk flit over Gandalf's face, but it was gone in a blink.

"But, _why?_ " Bard insisted, "Whywould you do this? You owe us no loyalty."

Brie turned to glare at Thranduil, who was still staring at the stone as if it were a snake that might reach out and bite him at any moment.

"Well, I can assure you, I'm not doing it for _him_. If it were up to me, I'd let the whole lot of them come down on your pretty elvish friends and…"

Thranduil's eyes snapped to her, his smirk plain now, as if daring her to finish her thought. Brie glared at him, but did not rise to his challenge. She turned back to Bard whose gaze was now flicking between them both uneasily.

"And honestly, I'm not doing it for you either, bowman. I feel for your plight, and the plight of your people-" Brie chose not to mention her own guilt, chose not to give the Elvenking any foothold to exploit. "-but you are right when you say I owe no loyalty to you. But the dwarves…"

Brie hesitated, a lump forming in her throat. Fili and Kili… Bofur… Dwalin… Nori…

"I know they can be obstinate, pigheaded and _difficult_ , suspicious and secretive, with the _worst_ manners you can possibly imagine, but… they are also brave and kind and… _loyal_ to a fault." A smile had grown on her lips without her meaning it. "I've grown very fond of them."

... _nanginguh..._

She came back to herself with a jolt and realized they were all staring at her. She straightened and forced the smile from her face.

"I would save them if I can."

She pointed to the hateful stone that still glowed upon the table, and the next words felt like an arrow to her heart. "Thorin values this stone above all else-"

... _You can't possibly believe he could ever care for you more than he cares for that stone…_ The dragon's hateful words floated up from the darkness of her memory, but she forced them away.

"-and in exchange for its return, I believe he will give you what you are owed," she said, "There will be no need for war."

The Big Folk exchanged a look between them. Then Bard carefully rewrapped the stone and put it in his coat. Brie shut her eyes. It was done. Her betrayal was complete. She had payed for the lives of the dwarves with her heart. Because when Thorin found out…

Gandalf took her shoulder and steered her out of the tent into the darkness, and she let him, feeling more tired than she ever had.

"Rest up tonight," he said, in a stern, grandfatherly tone, "You must leave on the morrow."

Brie blinked. "What?"

"Get as far away from here as possible," Gandalf said, still walking as if he had not just said the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard, "I wish you had brought Bilbo with you, but I suppose there was no help for it. I will do what I can, of course, but—"

"Gandalf, I'm not going anywhere!" Brie said, pulling up short and forcing the wizard to stop walking and face her, "It's not just Bilbo, what about the rest of the Company? Dwalin, Bofur, Nori…?"

She absently touched the braid by her ear, still wearing its ragged lavender ribbon and Gandalf's eyes tracked the movement. His expression flickered briefly from surprise to sorrow. He squeezed her shoulder.

"Oh, I am sorry, Briallen," he said gently, "I knew the thief had a fondness for you, but I had no idea it had gone as far as all that."

"He adopted us," Brie said absently, the numbness slowly being replaced by frustrated determination, "They all did. They're my _family_ , Gandalf. I'm not about to abandon them now!"

"And what would your family say if they knew you had needlessly thrown yourself into danger?" Gandalf said stubbornly, "Would they not rather you were safe and whole? I do not like to think what Thorin will do when he finds out what you've done, my dear."

"I'm not afraid of Thorin," Brie whispered, dreading the very thought of what Thorin would do when he discovered her deception. Would she survive even a second after? Or would the grief take her right then? Would she collapse under the weight of his shattered heart? Would the others understand that she had done it, all of it, for them?

"Well, you should be!" Gandalf scolded, and he sounded so very angry that it brought Brie back, "Don't underestimate the evil of gold; gold over which a serpent has long brooded. Dragon-sickness seeps into the hearts of all who come near this mountain."

Brie swallowed and stood her ground firmly. Gandalf sighed and she thought she saw a twitch of a smile touch his lips as he leaned on his staff.

"Well, _almost_ all," he amended. He looked tired, Brie realized, and a little older than she remembered. What _had_ the wizard been up to while he'd been away?

"You there!" Gandalf said, flagging down a greasy-looking Man that Brie thought seemed slightly familiar, "Find this Hobbit a bed, and fill her belly with hot food. She's earned it."

The Man rolled his eyes, but begrudgingly stomped over. Gandalf murmured something into his ear before the Man rolled his eyes again and clapped a hand on Brie's shoulder, steering her away.

"Come on, let's go," he muttered, shoving her through the midst of a group standing in their way. Brie did not protest, but she fingered the little gold ring in her pocket and waited for her chance.

* * *

Nori was restless. He hadn't seen Brie all evening. She hadn't come to bed, and Bilbo had been frustratingly vague as to her whereabouts, simply waving a hand distractedly and saying "Oh, she'll be along."

That had been hours ago. It was nearly dawn now and Nori had barely gotten a wink of sleep. He paced the hallways anxiously, occasionally passing Dwalin doing the same thing. They nodded to each other, but didn't speak. Dwalin was worried about her too. Something in Nori's heart warmed at that, that Dwalin was of the same mind as him. Maybe… when this was all over…

He stepped into the entryway and stopped. There was a sound. It was small, barely audible, but he could hear it, coming from a small alcove that was nearly buried in rubble. He ducked his head beneath the tipped remains of a stone pillar and blinked.

"Here now, what's this?"

Briallen gave a startled jerk and choked on a sob, scrubbing vigorously at her face as if it might erase the evidence of her tears.

"Nothing, nothing, it's—"

She looked up and stopped, staring at him in hopeless realization as the tears began to trickle down her cheeks again.

"Oh Nori..."

She buried her face in her knees and something inside of him broke. She was so small, and he loved her, his little _kurdu-namad_ , and there was nothing he could do to ease this hurt. He sidled in and slid down the wall beside her, gathering her up into his arms and rocking her back and forth.

"Oh sweetling," he whispered softly into her hair, "My sweet darling love..."

He did not ask her to explain. He didn't need to. And he did not tell her it would be alright. He would never lie to her. He just held her there, rocking gently, and let her cry until she fell asleep.

* * *

An army. Why, oh _why_ had they come with an army?

Brie peeked over the wall again, her eyes wide and her heart sinking down to her toes. She had been ordered to remain below, of course, but Bilbo's little ring had proven useful once again, allowing her to follow after the Company and ensconce herself among the Ri brothers without Thorin being any the wiser. He was far too occupied with the army of _elves_ on his doorstep.

A bow string twanged and Thranduil's elk shied away as the arrow pinged against the stone at its feet, halting the progress of the Elvenking and Bard at the edge of the water spanning the length of Erebor.

"I will put the next one between your eyes," Thorin snarled, another arrow to the string, and the dwarves cheered as if this were something to celebrate. If Brie had not been fairly paralyzed with fear for them, she might have buried her face in frustration. Honestly, _dwarves!_

Thranduil merely smirked and, with a flick of his hand, a great number of elven bows were made ready, poised at the lot of foolish dwarves lining the gates of Erebor. Most of them ducked (wisely, in Brie's opinion), but Thorin never even flinched. For a long tense moment, the two kings held each other's gaze. Then, in another flick of his hand, the elves relented, putting away their bows and standing once more at the ready. Still, Thorin did not budge.

"We've come to tell you," Thranduil said, that awful smirk still on his face, "That payment of your debt has been offered...and accepted."

Thorin blinked. His bow wavered. Brie's heart lurched.

"What payment? I gave you nothing! You have _nothing_!"

"We have this."

Bard pulled the painfully familiar cloth from the inside of his jacket and tossed it open. The stone glimmered even more beautifully in the pale light of morning. As if it had taken the beauty of the sunrise and infused it, like a prism. Thorin lowered his bow. Brie shut her eyes and waited.

But to her surprise, it was not Thorin who spoke first.

"They have the Arkenstone?" Kili cried, young, impulsive, indignant, "Thieves! How came you by the heirloom of our house! That stone belongs to the king!"

"And the king may have it," Bard said, and Brie hated him a little for the callousness of his tone, though she could not begrudge it of him, "With our good will. But first, he must honor his word!"

There was a long pause. Brie could hear Thorin muttering, but she could not hear what he said until…

"The Arkenstone is in this mountain!" he roared furiously, "It is a _trick!_ "

For a moment, Brie was dumbstruck, frozen long enough to realize that this was the thing she had dreaded for so long, what felt like a lifetime. With a heavy heart, she stepped out to meet it.

"It's no trick."

The words sounded so weary, so heavy, that she was surprised when all the dwarves turned to look at her, confusion etched on their expressions. Thorin frowned.

"Briallen, I told you to wait below—"

"It's not a trick, Thorin," she repeated, taking another step toward him before she lost her nerve, "The… the stone, it's real."

She swallowed and met his eyes with the last of her courage.

"I gave it to them."

The silence was worse than anything she had imagined. It meant there was nothing to distract from every nuance of Thorin's expression as her words reached his ears. The impact was less devastating than she might have thought, but that was somehow the worst thing of all. He looked… confused. His brow furrowed and the look she had seen so frequently on his face came back, as if he could not recall where he was or how he had gotten there.

"...you?"

The word was small and soft and it hit Brie in the chest like a boulder. And though she knew there was no explaining, no justifying what she had done, she felt the words bubbling out of her on reflex.

"I— claimed it as the Baggins' share of the treasure. One fourteenth of total profits, if any…"

She trailed off. That _ridiculous_ contract... It was meaningless, she could see it in his face. He was staring at her as if he was seeing her for the first time, as if he could not quite comprehend her.

"But…" His brow furrowed again, as if searching for words. "But I would have given it to you."

Brie blinked. Her heart stopped.

"What?"

It was a silly question, she knew it the moment it left her lips. Thorin was still staring at her, but it was almost like staring _through_ her now.

"It was to be my second gift," he said, vaguely, as if speaking only to himself, "My _khajamib-baraf_ , an heirloom of my family. Then none could have disputed your right… None could have taken you away…"

"I… I don't understand," Brie said, but in her heart she thought she did. And it was too late. Always too late.

Thorin blinked and it was like a lightning strike. His eyes blazed to life, the confusion no more than a distant memory.

"Instead you would steal from me."

Despite herself, Brie felt a flicker of indignation.

"Steal? Thorin, weren't you listening? It's standing against my claim!"

"Your _claim_?" Thorin sneered, taking a step toward her, "You hold no _claim_ on me, you faithless, _deceitful_ —"

"Don't you think I _wanted_ to tell you?!" Brie shouted over him, afraid to hear what he might say next, "So many times, I nearly did! But— You are _changed_ , Thorin! The dwarf I met in Bag End, he was stubborn, and rude, and nearly _insufferable_ , but he would _never_ have gone back on his word! _That_ is the dwarf I fell in love with, and now I—"

"You dare to say you _loved_ me?!" Thorin snarled, " _Now_ , when it means little more than a dung beetle's word? You—!"

Brie hadn't realized how close they'd come to one another until his hand shot out and wrapped around her throat.

"Curse you!" he shouted as Brie gasped, lifting her off her feet, as if she weighed no more than the clothes she wore, "Curse you, and curse the wizard that brought me to your doorstep!"

She felt the stones of the wall against her swinging legs, heard the shouts of the other dwarves, of Gandalf somewhere far below, begging for reason, but as she struggled for breath what Brie saw most clearly were the tears spilling from the corners of Thorin's eyes. He was crying. Brie had never seen him cry. Not once.

"Thorin..." she gasped, her own tears spilling down her cheeks, "Please..."

 _I'm sorry... I love you... Come back..._

Thorin's eyes narrowed.

"You want her, wizard?" he snarled, his arm tensing, "Then take her _back!"_

And with a mighty shove, Thorin tossed her from the wall.

There was a brief moment in which Brie felt weightless, floating as if on a bubble of air. And in that moment, less than a breath's worth of time, she saw a string, somewhere deep inside her, woven together of light and joy and the sheer will to go on, to _live_. Until this very moment she had not even known it existed, but now she felt it keenly, stretched, fraying, holding by a single thread. And as the weightlessness of that moment gave way to falling, the final thread that had held Briallen Baggins anchored to her life, snapped.

She barely noticed when she landed in a pair of strong arms, rather than on the wet rocks of the moat. It hardly mattered anymore. She heard several of the dwarves calling her name, heard Nori shouting and snarling in a mix of Westron and Khuzdul that she could not understand, but sounded bad. Gandalf cradled her like a fauntling and murmured soothingly in her ear ' _It's alright, Briallen, it's going to be alright, my dear'_ but that mattered least of all, because it wasn't true. Couldn't he see? Nothing was alright. Nothing would ever be alright again. Brie shut her eyes and curled up in the wizard's arms. She was untethered, sinking down into a welcoming darkness, silent and empty, and she suddenly understood how her father might have...

"Brie!"

 _...Bilbo_.

Her eyes flew open and she struggled to sit up, pulling against the force that was still dragging at her, beckoning her down into the dark. That had been Bilbo's panicked voice, her brother calling out for her...

Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain, was dangling her brother by the scruff of his neck over the battlements.

"You see fit to hold something precious to me!" he shouted, so that all could hear, "So I shall do the same!"

 _No_...

"Until the Arkenstone is returned to me, the halfling Bilbo Baggins shall be held prisoner within these halls!"

"NO!" Brie flew into frantic movement, swinging and kicking, trying to get free, but Gandalf held her fast. "No, no, Bilbo, _Bilbo!_ "

"Brie!" Bilbo cried as Thorin turned and shoved him into the waiting arms of Dwalin, who looked both pained and determined.

"Bind him hand and foot, and lock him in one of the store rooms."

As Dwalin took the struggling hobbit away, Brie felt something within her flare back to life, some last reserve of Tookish fire that, until this moment, had been tucked safely away in some distant corner. But there was no Baggins left in her now to hold it back and it swept through the darkness that threatened to swallow her, leaving behind only blazing fury.

"Thorin!" she screamed, still kicking and struggling against the iron grip of the wizard, "Thorin, I swear on the Green Mother, I will _tear this thrice-cursed mountain apart!_ Do you hear me?! Stone by stone, I will PULL EREBOR TO THE GROUND! THORIN! _THORIN!_ "

But the wizard was carrying her away from the gates. And Thorin was no longer listening.

* * *

 **A/N:** My god, this chapter kicks me in the chest every time. If you'll excuse me, I'm just gonna go lick my wounds and dry my tears.

* * *

 **Sindarin Translations**

 _perianig-_ little hobbit

 _melethron-naugol_ \- lover-dwarf

 **Khuzdul Translations**

 _Khajamib-baraf-_ The gift of the clan


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter Thirty-One**

Truthfully, the arrival of Thorin's cousin (Dain? Was that what Gandalf had called him? Brie wasn't sure, and wasn't sure she cared) was the perfect bit of luck. It forced Gandalf to put Brie on her own two feet and direct his attention elsewhere, providing the perfect opportunity to slip Bilbo's little gold ring on her finger and disappear into the shuffling armies as they turned to face this new and far more pressing threat. Brie didn't care about the elves and the dwarves and their petty stupid fighting, or the Men that were caught in the middle. Not anymore.

The only thing she still cared about, the only thing holding back the darkness that threatened to swallow her, holding back her Fading (for that's what it was, she was under no illusions about that) was Bilbo. And he was being held, against his will, inside the mountain of Erebor. If it took the rest of her life skulking in the shadowy world of this magic ring, she would find him. She would see him safe and whole and happy. No Fading would take her before she knew Bilbo was safe.

So she dodged between the legs of giants in golden armor, not caring who she had to shove to reach her goal. She ran toward the walled gates of Erebor and scampered across the rubble of the moat with nary a splash to mark her passing. Though she doubted the dwarves would have taken much notice if she had been fully visible and announced her presence to them in her loudest voice. They were too busy cheering the arrival of their kin, as if they had been saved. Idiots. Fools. Something stung in her chest, a pain that she ignored. Let them have their mountain and their treasure and their pride. She would take her brother and go. They could have everything…

 _I would have given it to you…_

She shoved that voice away because it brought with it the darkness of Fading and she wasn't ready. Not yet. Not until Bilbo was safe.

The rope she had used to sneak away in the night was still dangling from the ramparts and she scrambled up with a lightness that would not have been possible for her a year ago. She was much changed from the hobbit that had come running up the hill after a band of foolhardy dwarves with her brother, gasping for air.

 _Get them each a pony..._

She hoped over the ledge and crouched in the shadows, surveying her path. The stairs down into the mountain were unguarded. The dwarves were all turned toward the field of battle. Without allowing any time for second guessing, Brie shot down the steps without looking back. She paused again at the bottom, pressing back into the rubble and allowing her eyes to adjust to the dim light. She didn't have any idea where they might have taken Bilbo. A store room, he'd said, but which one? There were hundreds of them, just on the first level. The dwarves had made themselves busy clearing rooms in their spare time, when not in the treasury looking for the thrice-cursed Arkenstone.

 _Instead you would steal from me…_

Dwalin. Where had Dwalin spent his time? Armories, of course, but he wouldn't have left Bilbo in an armory, surely, surrounded by sharp objects that might facilitate escape. Balin then, Dwalin's brother. He had spent most of his time in the scroll room, organizing the books and parchments. That's where she would start. She pushed the darkness back once more and scuttled along the wall, heading toward the familiar room, with its musty smell and comforting words.

She was nearly there when the door opened and Dwalin himself emerged, holding a rusty set of keys. He locked the room behind him and turned away, clearly not aware of her presence. Brie took a step and a bit of loose rock that she hadn't noticed shifted beneath her feet. The sound was small, almost unremarkable, but Dwalin paused and Brie froze. The guardsman didn't turn, didn't move at all. He only stood in the shadows for a long time. Then his voice came to her through the warbling shadow of her invisibility.

"I don't know if it's you," he murmured, "And I don't want to know. I'm not going to turn around. But if it is you… If it is…"

He choked on his words. Brie felt that same sting in her chest, painful, sharp, cutting through the anger that was coursing through her, holding back the Fading dark.

"Tell him I'm sorry," he said finally, "And you can take that for yourself too. I'm… sorry, Briallen."

Brie's heart jolted in her chest and she nearly scrambled away at the sound of her name, but she held fast, waiting. There was a moment of complete stillness. And then, true to his word, Dwalin walked away, without looking back. Brie held her ground for a long while, just to be sure. But he never came back. There was no other noise in the dark.

Brie regained her anger, wrapped it around her like a cloak, and moved forward. She tested the door. The lock rattled, loose in its frame, and Nori had taught her a few things more than just how to slide a rock into her pocket without being seen. It popped open with very little effort and the door creaked only slightly as she slipped inside, pressing it shut behind her with a muffled click.

"Bilbo?"

Brie slipped the ring off her finger and glanced around the room with eyes not shadowed by magic. It took only a moment to pick out a huddled form in the corner, bound hand and foot, and looking quite the worse for wear. The bundle shifted and groaned, looking up and grinning at her cheekily as she approached, one hazel eye already swelling from a nasty blow and his normally impeccable hair all a mess.

"Nori?" Brie squeaked in surprise, hurrying forward to help him upright.

"Ah! Rescue is at hand, I see," he said, settling with a wince while Brie worked at the ropes binding his hands.

"What on earth are you doing here?" Brie asked, picking the knots apart with quick fingers and unwinding the ropes from around his wrists. His knuckles were bloodied and bruised as well, but that didn't stop him from putting them to work undoing the knots around his ankles.

"Well, it seems I _might_ have tried to assassinate the king," he said cheerfully, "Though I can't quite recall. I wasn't in complete control of my faculties at the time, seeing as how I'd just watched the great love of my life get thrown off a cliff."

"It was hardly a cliff," Brie said, rolling her eyes, "And Gandalf was there to catch me."

 _You want her, wizard? Take her back..._

Together they finally got the last knot undone and Nori sloughed the ropes from his ankles and yanked Brie down into the most fierce hug of her entire life.

" _Mamahdul Mahal_ , I'm glad you're alright, sweet," he whispered.

Brie hugged him back, but made no comment as to her current state. There was no need to worry the poor dear, after all. It would all be over soon.

"Where's Bilbo, do you know?" she asked, pulling back, "We have to get out of here, there's trouble brewing down below."

"Wherever he is, you can bet he's putting up a mighty fight," Nori said, getting gingerly to his feet, "Leastways he was last I saw. Dwa—"

His fists clenched and his eyes flashed briefly in a fury so hot that Brie took a step back.

"The _guardsman_ ," he spat instead, "handed him off to Gloin when he had to deal with me. If I know that greedy _shaik binashlâs_ , he'll have squirreled him away close to the treasury. If we head that way and he's still kicking up a fuss, we should hear him."

Brie didn't quite like the idea of traipsing around Erebor with a great hulking dwarf stomping after, but it didn't appear that Nori was in any state to be reasoned with on the subject, so she didn't bother. She needed to get to Bilbo as quickly as possible. That was what mattered now. That and getting out of the mountain, but they would cross that chasm when they came to it.

She poked her head out into the hallway and, not seeing any sign of Nori's guardsman or any other dwarves, she motioned forward. As they made their way deeper into the mountain, toward the far too familiar treasure room, Brie felt a cold seeping into her bones, a dread that she couldn't quite push away. She could hear the dragon echoing in her head.

 _...ever care for you more than that stone… corrupt his heart… you have been used, Thief in the shadows…_

"...no, no, not that way!"

"But I'm sure…!"

"...lost as… no direction… west, not east!"

Brie froze and then, without thinking, took off at a run.

"Briallen!" Nori hissed, as his echoing bootsteps hurried after her.

She ignored him. The muffled voices were getting closer and as she turned a corner, she nearly collided straight into Bofur, who grabbed his hat in one hand and brandished his familiar mattock with the other before he really saw her.

"Briallen?" he said in surprise, lowering his mattock, but Brie was already shoving past him, toward the one thing that was keeping her alive.

"Bilbo!" She grabbed him into a tight hug and then shoved him back, running her hands and her eyes over him thoroughly. "Are you alright, did they hurt you?"

"I'm fine, fine, Brie, what are you doing here?" he hissed, pulling her off to the side, though it would do little good if they were caught in this narrow hallway, "I mean, not that I'm not glad to see you, but do you know what Thorin will do if he finds you here?"

"I don't care, I don't care," Brie said, taking his hand and leading him back the way they had come, "We have to get out of here, we have to go, come on—"

"Not that way!" Bofur said, stepping in front of them and looking as if he were trying to herd them back the way they'd come, "If we go that way, they're sure to see—"

"Stay here then," Brie snapped, gripping her brother more firmly by the hand, "Stay here in your mountain with your gold and your gems and your dragon-mad king! That's all you dwarves care about anyway!"

She regretted the words the moment they left her mouth. Bofur stepped back, looking as if she had struck him straight across the face. A flash of pain crossed Nori's expression too, but he stifled it much more quickly than easy-going, friendly Bofur. Brie felt that sting again, that stab in her chest, slicing through her anger. The black edges of her Fading loomed up, threatening.

"I… I'm sorry, Bofur," she said, "I'm sorry, I didn't—"

"I know," he said, still sad and pained, "It's alright, lass."

"He's right, you know," Bilbo said, giving Brie a sharp, disapproving look, "If we go back that way, we're sure to be seen. The others might not agree with what Thorin has done, but that doesn't mean they're on our side either."

"Treason's not taken lightly among dwarves," Nori said, his eyes hard and his fists clenched, "Bilbo's not done anything wrong thus far; he might make it through, but the rest of us?"

"Aye," Bofur agreed, hoisting his mattock onto his shoulder with a determined air, "There's nothing left in this mountain for us. We can't stay here."

Brie stared at the two dwarves, realizing with sudden horror the implications of what they were saying.

"But… But your families… Nori, your brothers…"

Nori turned his face away, his expression still stony.

"They'll be alright," he said, "They've always done better without me, anyway."

"Bombur and Bifur know my mind," Bofur said, smiling fondly at Bilbo, "We've been talking for awhile. They'll be fine."

Brie reached out and took Nori's hand. He clenched his jaw and did not meet her eyes, but he squeezed her hand tightly.

"Alright," she said, looking up at Bofur, "What do we do?"

* * *

Thorin sat upon the broken throne of his forefathers and felt the weight of the crown upon his head as if for the first time. He had been a fool, a love-sick _dwarfling_ , to think she could ever have been… could ever have...

 _The dwarf I met in Bag End… stubborn, and rude, and nearly insufferable… the dwarf I fell in love with…_

But she hadn't. Not really. It had all been a trick, a silly game. Just as he had known all along. It meant nothing. Didn't Dwalin understand? The only thing that mattered, the only thing that hadn't changed, was this mountain, the stone beneath his feet and the treasure it contained. The legacy of his grandfather, that was what he would cling to now, as he had clung to it when he had believed his sister-sons were dead, the remnants of his line in tatters. The gold did not change. The gold did not deceive. The gold did not pretend to be anything but what it was. He would protect it, as he had tried to protect her, and the gold would do as he commanded. The gold was _his_. He would treasure it. As he had treasured her.

"You sit here in these vast halls, with a crown upon your head, and yet you are lesser now than you have ever been."

 _Thorin Oakenshield is more king than you on his worst day!_

He could hear the echo of her voice in Dwalin's words and it was more than he could bear. Had he not suffered enough?!

"I AM YOUR KING!"

"You were always my king. You used to know that once."

 _I would say 'at your service', but that is currently pledged to another king..._

"You cannot see what you have become."

 _...you are changed, Thorin…_

"Get out," Thorin growled, looking up and almost surprised when he did not see her face, "Before I kill you."

 _Thorin… please…_

It didn't matter. It was the gold. Only the gold. It was all that mattered, his only comfort. His only love. It surrounded him, in a great undulating sea, it consumed everything and he _wanted_ it, to consume him, to take the pain, to take the memories that kept floating to the surface, the voices, but most of all _her_ voice, he wanted to drown her voice in gold, her memory in gold.

 _The first time he had seen her and despaired when he believed her to be a wife, and then despaired again to learn that she was instead a sister, and still could never belong to him._

" _...I am going on your blasted quest! And you will be grateful for it, or so help me...!"_

 _Every stab of frustrated fury and fear: when she stubbornly fell ill, when he nearly lost her to trolls, to wargs, to orcs._

" _...the survival of one hobbit, whom you don't even particularly care for…!"_

 _How could she have ever believed such a thing? How could he have cared for her any more?_

 _Standing in the moonlight of Rivendell with lettuce in her hair… How lovely she had been, even dressed in the raiment of elves, how much lovelier still if he had been allowed to dress her in the garb of his own people…_

" _I was at the river… The wolves were coming across... We'd already lost so much…"_

 _Mahal, she was so beautiful, so fierce, so vulnerable. He could smell her, green summer grass and fresh turned earth, he wanted to bury his nose in her hair and breathe it forever. "You have a natural grace, more than any dwarf could dream of."_

 _In the Misty Mountains… The moment he had known he would do anything for her…_

 _"No, please, my brother, please, that's my brother!" and he had launched himself over the cliffside without a second thought, had risked everything for her. And he would do it again and again, over and over._

 _The moment he had allowed himself to hope… if only for a moment…There on the Carrock, with his shield in her hand…_

 _"I... thought you might want it back."_

There was more, so much more, it flooded him and he hit his knees on the golden floor, grabbed at his head as he tried to force it away, but it would not go.

 _A primrose carved into oak… "I cannot live without you"... A lullaby in the dark of Mirkwood… "Golden slumber kiss your eyes"... Water lapping against the boardwalks of Laketown… "We have nothing yet to give in courting"..._

 _The mountain… the dragon…_

" _Is that all she is to you, Thorin? A burglar?"_

" _...I am not my grandfather."_

 _He could not let her die… He could not let her…_

But he had. He had thrown her out, had tossed her to the wolves that prowled on his doorstep. He had sent her to her death. _He_ had done that. He opened his eyes and saw, not the gold, but his reflection, staring back at him. The reflection of the one who had murdered his _'umral_ , his greatest love. No matter what she had said, no matter what she had done, no matter if she loved him or not, she was entwined around his heart, rooted there like the flower that had given her its name.

And he had sent her out to die.

" _I am not my grandfather…"_

" _...you are changed, Thorin…"_

" _...they are dying out there…"_

" _...the dwarf I fell in love with…"_

" _...I am not my grandfather…"_

 _..._

 _Nanginguh._

The crown hit the floor with a rattling clang. Where there once had been a king, Thorin Oakenshield now stood, a broken dwarf, barely more than an exile. But for the first time since he had stepped over the threshold of this kingdom, his mind was clear.

He could not let her die.

* * *

Brie stared down at the battlefield with undisguised horror. Orcs, wargs, trolls… an unfathomable army now stood between the four of them and Dale. The noise was uncanny, even from so high up the mountain, at the foot of the Hidden Stairway: unearthly screams, clashing metal, roars and shouts and squeals. She gripped her silver bow in her hand, felt the insufficient weight of the quiver on her back, and for a moment, despair begin to creep in, to push the darkness of her Fading with ever-reaching fingers.

"What do we do now?" Bilbo whispered, holding Bofur's hand and staring down at the terrible nightmare with the same look of despair.

"What we set out to do," Nori said, hefting his mace onto his shoulder, his face set in stubborn determination, "We make for Dale. We'll have better cover in the city. We can find supplies, regroup, maybe hunker down until everything passes…"

"So many…" Bofur whispered, his large, kind eyes sweeping the field, "So many… and for what?"

"It doesn't matter," Brie said, gripping her bow more fiercely and pushing back the darkness once more, "Nori is right. We make for the city. Come on."

And before she could change her mind, Brie began making her careful way down the mountain, listening for the sounds of the others eventually following in her wake. It didn't matter, really, how much danger she was in. She was dead anyway. Better to die defending the ones she loved, than to let the Fading take her.

Either way.

 _...Nanginguh…_

Either way.

* * *

 **Khuzdul Translations**

 _Mamahdul Mahal_ \- Blessed Mahal

 _shaik binashlâs_ \- coward without integrity

 _'Umral-_ greatest love

 _Nanginguh-_ my flower


	32. Chapter 32

**A/N:** Oh my gosh, you guys. I am absolutely _overwhelmed_ by the response to the last two chapters. Completely blown away. You guys have been so patient with me and I can't even express how grateful I am to each and every one of you. Okay, let's get moving! There's a lot of ground to cover here, so… get ready… here we go!

 **Chapter Thirty-Two**

"Briallen!"

Brie turned, ice water raging through her veins, already loosing her arrow as an orc leapt from the top of a wall, screaming in fury. It caught him in the throat and he was dead before he hit the ground. Brie yanked back her arrow and slammed it into her quiver, whirling and running toward Nori waving at her from beneath an archway.

"This way!" he said, as he took her shoulder and raced with her into another of the many courtyards of Dale. Bilbo and Bofur stood back to back, fighting two more orcs in close quarters. Brie loosed another arrow, catching Bilbo's orc straight through the ear. Before he had even dropped, Bofur's orc was down as well, his mattock squashing the head in a nasty squelch that might have made Brie's stomach turn if it hadn't been a solid block of ice.

"Hurry," she said, recovering her arrow and swiping her hair back from her forehead with the back of her hand, "We need high ground so we can see—"

"Briallen Baggins!"

Brie turned, reaching for an arrow before she realized what she was doing and stopped. Gandalf came storming into the courtyard, his eyes fixed on her with smoky fury.

"What on earth have you been—?"

He stopped short as he took in the rest of her party, then hmphed indignantly, tapping his staff on the frost-covered stones in an impatient gesture.

"Well, I might have known," he grumbled, "Still, I am glad to see you alright, you had me worried sick!"

Brie did not bother apologizing. It would have been a lie.

"Yes, well, it was a near thing, I can tell you that!" Bofur said cheerfully, straightening his hat and hoisting his mattock onto his shoulder, flinging bits of orc in the gesture.

"You all might well have been safer inside the mountain," Gandalf muttered.

"Not very _iklifumun_ likely," Nori grumbled under his breath. Gandalf glared at him.

"Well, we are here now," Bilbo said, stepping forward and allowing Gandalf to put a fond hand on his shoulder, "And I would very much like to survive this debacle if we can. Gandalf, do you suppose—"

A horn sounded. They all turned toward the snow-covered hill in the distance and saw the flags, the signals of the orcs, change direction. Pointing toward the mountain.

"No…" Gandalf gasped and rushed forward, Brie and the others following in his wake.

They made their way over the dead of Dale, leaping over bodies until they could see over the wall, down to the battle below that was barely a battle anymore. What remained of the dwarven army had formed up in a ragged semi-circle before the gates of Erebor, a desperate final stand against the terrible black wave about to crash upon the rocks of the mountain. Even though Brie had been sure she held no love any longer for Erebor, still her heart lodged in her throat at the thought that, after all it had endured—dwarves, and greed, and dragon fire—she was going to watch the mountain fall to such a force as this.

Thorin's home… His heart…

Another horn sounded, long and loud and clear in the cold air. A horn that did not come from the hill. It came from within the mountain, from somewhere in the depths of the stone and echoed like a dwarven shout, a triumphant cry. It jolted through Brie like a clap of thunder.

And she knew.

"Thorin…"

The walled up gates of Erebor came smashing outward with a metallic boom that scattered rock and rubble in its wake. And out of the opening, running as if there were an army at their backs, and not a mere loyal handful, came bursting the line of Durin, Thorin and Fili and Kili and all the rest, screaming their battle cries and slamming into the scattering orcs like a whirlwind of destruction and fury.

Brie heard the two dwarves behind her cheering and shouting "Du Bekar! Du Bekar!" but she could not bear to look at them. She felt the darkness closing in all of a sudden, her Fading threatening to take her and she gripped the wall with a white-knuckled hand, using every ounce of her remaining strength to force it back again.

 _...the dwarf I fell in love with..._

 _You dare to say you loved me..._

A shout and a scream brought her back and her arrow loosed from her bow before she was even fully aware again. An orc fell dead, leaving a woman holding a spear in her terrified hand and staring blankly at the place where it had once stood. Brie rushed up and reclaimed her arrow.

"We're not safe yet!" she shouted, as more orcs came crawling over the wall, "Nori! Bofur!"

But even in the face of what still remained before them, the dwarves seemed revived, vibrant, and even Bilbo fought with more vigor than Brie might have expected from him. The frozen river took her again and Brie loosed arrow after arrow, trying not to think about the battle raging down below, trying not to wonder…

"What are they doing?"

Bilbo's voice brought her back again and she turned toward it, her eyes following his line of sight. There were four figures, making their way up the hill that led to the signal post the orcs had set up in the abandoned fortress.

"It's Thorin," she said, the numbness in her limbs having nothing to do with the winter river in her blood.

"And Fili and Kili," Gandalf said, coming up beside her, leaning heavily on his staff, "And Dwalin! He's taking his best warriors!"

Brie heard Nori snort beside her and impulsively she reached out to take his hand. It was shaking.

"To do what?" Bilbo asked.

"To cut off the head of the snake."

Azog. Azog was up there. Fire flashed in Brie's memory, a snarl of Black Speech, the gleam of eyes in the dark.

"Gandalf!"

She turned toward the strangely familiar voice, an arrow nocked purely out of habit. A horse galloped through the archway and the blond elf-prince launched himself off, followed closely by the red-headed she-elf, Tauriel.

"Legolas!" Gandalf exclaimed, "Legolas Greenleaf!"

But the prince did not seem in the mood for celebration. His face was hard and angry. Brie tensed.

"There is a second army," the elf said, pointing back somewhere behind, "Bolg leads a force of Gundabad orcs. They are almost upon us!"

Gandalf pulled up short, realization dawning clear across his wizened face.

"Gundabad…This was their plan all along." He turned to the battlefield, as if seeing it again for the first time, "Azog engages our forces, then Bolg sweeps in from the north."

"The… The north?" Bilbo stammered, turning in a frantic circle, "Where is the _north_ , exactly?"

Gandalf's eyes tracked up, steadily. Brie's blood ran with ice.

"Ravenhill."

Bilbo's voice sounded like it was coming from somewhere underwater as he spluttered "Ravenhill, but… Thorin is up there! And Fili and Kili! They're _all_ up there!"

"Someone has to warn them."

As the words left her lips, Brie knew exactly what she had to do. She knew it in her heart, she knew it in her _soul_ , more clearly than she had ever known anything in her entire life. It was all so obvious.

She turned and grabbed Nori's arm so tightly he jumped, staring at her.

"Gather the others, get them to Ravenhill," she snapped, slinging her bow across her back and shoving Nori toward Bilbo so that they almost collided, "And take care of my brother!"

"But, Brie, where are you—?!"

Before Bilbo could finish his sentence, Brie slipped out of sight around a corner, shoved a hand into her pocket, and slipped on the little gold ring. The shadows wavered and converged around her, swallowing the protests of those she had left behind. She took off at a run, slipping over the frost-covered ground as fast as her feet could carry her.

 _...blood and snow and ice..._

 _...nanginguh…_

 _I'm coming, Thorin. Just hold on._

* * *

Something wasn't right.

It wasn't just the ease with which they had defeated the goblin mercenaries. With Dwalin at his side, a few hundred goblins were nothing. No, there was something else that was setting Thorin ill at ease. Something in the air. Something _missing._

"Where is that orc filth?" Dwalin growled and wasn't that just the question? Where _was_ Azog? Or any of the orcs, for that matter, for by all rights this fortress should have been crawling with them. To think that a handful of goblins were all that stood in their way? It was ludicrous. Or worse…

"This is a trap," Thorin breathed, the words frosting on the winter air, as if to give shape to what should have been so clear to him from the first. He turned back to Dwalin, the icy fingers of fear crawling up his spine. "Find Fili and Kili; call them back!"

"But we're so close!" Dwalin exclaimed, "If we just press on—"

"No, that's what he wants." _Mahal_ it was so obvious now, all of it, he would have seen them coming, it was the perfect spot. "He wants to draw us in."

He could see something of what he knew now dawning on Dwalin's face as well. He turned back to the ruins, where he had foolishly sent his nephews, his _sons_.

"Fili!" he shouted, "Kili! Get out of there!"

But the only answer he received was the beginning of cackling laughter. His chest contracted. Drums began to sound from somewhere deep within the fortress. A flickering light swelled in the watchtower and… no.

Fili hung suspended, his eyes desperate, but his jaw clenched against the fear that he could not control. Even hanging by the neck in the grip of the Defiler, he was still kicking, still clawing, still fighting. Fili... his nephew... his _son_... Thorin's breath choked him as Azog raised his bladed arm, poised to strike...

An arrow passed so close to Thorin's face that the wind of its wake fluttered his hair. It flew straight and true, and buried itself in the white orc's shoulder. He roared, but his grip on Fili loosened and the boy fell out of sight with a shout, quickly followed by a muffled crack and a short, piercing scream. Distantly, Thorin acknowledged that there would be bones broken, possibly irreparable damage done, but still the scream, rather than horrify, gave him a strange comfort. If he could scream, then he could still draw breath. Fili was alive. Injured, but alive.

"Kili! Wherever you are, get your brother and get out of here!"

Thorin turned rather sluggishly toward that high-pitched, commanding voice, feeling numb, as if he had walked into a dream. Briallen was running toward him, slipping slightly on the ice, bow in hand and a quiver of mithril arrows slung across her back. She had another arrow already set to the string and the moment she regained her footing, she took aim and sent it flying, but whatever target she'd been aiming for must have been missed, because she cursed.

"Well, what are you two standing around for?" she snapped, turning to Dwalin as she pulled another arrow from her quiver and used it to gesture as she spoke, "More orcs coming from the north, we're surrounded, the others are on their way, but until then we're on our own. I'll take the high ground here, you two get moving!"

She made to brush past him and, without thinking, Thorin reached for her, meaning to stop her, to tell her, to say...

Quicker than a blink, the hobbit dropped and turned in his grip, the sharp bite of metal stinging the back of his hand. Briallen brandished the mithril arrow at him like a small sword, the tip now gleaming red with his blood, her gaze narrowed and burning.

"Touch me again and it will be your eye next."

He was gaping, he knew it, but Briallen did not even acknowledge it. She was running again, running away from him, her braid swinging in the freezing wind.

"Get going!"

* * *

She had panicked. It was the only explanation. As she ran, Brie brushed the bloodied tip of the arrow against her trouser leg, wiping away all evidence of the fact that she had _attacked_ the great bloody King under the Mountain. He hadn't even looked angry about it. He had looked… No. She pushed aside the way she _thought_ he had looked and focused. She had to focus.

She scrambled up one of the broken fortress walls and clambered into what looked like it had once been a watchroom. Only three quarters of the walls still stood and the floor was pocked with holes where the planks had broken and patches of ice. She managed to find a steady footing and surveyed the field of battle.

On the one side she could see the force that Azog had with him, pouring out of the fortress and onto the snowy river. She nocked her arrow, but could find no clear shot at him. She waited, hoping for the perfect opportunity to—

There was a flutter above and before Brie could turn, a mass of black wings burst out of the cloud cover and dived down toward her. She screamed and ducked, dropping her arrow as bats as big as hounds came swooping through the air over her head.

"Briallen!"

That was Dwalin's voice. Brie scrambled upright and waved a hand down below.

"I'm alright!" she shouted, "I'm…"

Her voice trailed off. Coming over the ruins in a black wave, were the orcs of Gundabad, led by a terrible creature covered in metal plates. His eyes fixed on Dwalin and he roared a guttural command.

"Dwalin, look out!"

She was on her feet and an arrow loosed at the foremost orc by the time Dwalin had turned to meet the threat. There were so many, but Dwalin was a whirling cyclone of brute force, both axes in his hands swirling in black, deadly arcs over and over. Brie began to spend arrows, for if Dwalin died… Nori… Nori would never survive it.

" _Du Bekar!_ "

With a roar, three more dwarves charged in from over the edge of the hill, Nori's mace leading his two brothers into the fray.

"We'll hold here, _namad!_ " Dori shouted, taking the head of the nearest orc completely off his shoulders, "Where's Thorin?"

Thorin.

Brie turned back to the river. She could see him, on the edge where the frozen river cascaded over the rocky precipice, surrounded on three sides by orcs of varying sizes. Azog was far back, observing, letting the others do his dirty work. So much the better. Brie nocked an arrow and pulled back, sighted the white monster, prepared to let fly.

But a cry, a shout, drew her attention back to the river's edge. Thorin. On his back, an orc above, struggling.

 _No._

Brie's arrow flew from the string and pierced the orc through the chest, straight through his armor. He toppled over the falls, but before Thorin could get up the others surged forward. Brie reached back to her quiver, reached for another arrow…

...and came up empty.

Her breath caught. No. No, this couldn't… It _couldn't…_

Something glittered over the edge of the waterfall and lodged in the nearest orc. As he fell, Thorin caught it, whatever it was, and with a vicious slash he was on his feet again, whirling, rushing toward Azog and cutting through the last of the orcs with smooth, vicious grace. Brie felt the frozen river in her veins again, clearing her mind, pushing back the dark. In a blink, she was over the wall of the watchtower and skidding down the ruins, snatching back her arrows from dead orcs and fallen bats as she ran, shoving a handful back into her quiver. If she could just get to the river, if she could just get a foothold… one shot… she just needed one shot…

She reached the river bank and took two steps onto the ice. There was a shout and a thundering crack vibrated under Brie's feet. Hairline cracks spidered out from where Thorin and Azog circled one another. Azog threw all of his strength into the chained boulder-mace in his hand, but Thorin slipped beneath his attack and came up behind, slashing him across the back. Azog roared again and turned to swing back.

"Thorin!" The scream left her throat without her permission and Thorin turned to miss Azog's strike, the boulder lodging itself into the river.

Thorin threw out his hand to her without looking.

"Stay back!" he shouted, his sword gleaming in the sunlight.

Brie heard a hiss of Black Speech that made her blood run cold.

" _Matubat nûkhud, Dushaklaazg. Matubat-ishi shiiku agh grish..._ "

Whatever he said, it was enough to send Thorin snarling after him again, launching across the ice and slamming into Azog with his sword swinging. The orc moved back and swung the mace again. Brie turned back toward the riverbank and began to climb. There was a rocky outcrop that gave a good vantage of the whole river, including the combatants. If she could just get high enough, perhaps she could get her shot, perhaps this nightmare could finally end.

A screech dropped her down into a crouch that nearly made her lose her footing, but this was not the call of a bat. A huge golden-feathered eagle swooped overhead and slammed into the ranks of orcs marching in from the north. Brie watched in awestruck amazement as a formation of eagles dove down from the clouds and split into two groups, one dropping toward the battlefield and decimating the bats from above, the other swooping over the river and diving toward the approaching orc ranks. A figure fell from the back of one eagle and twisted in midair, growing until it hit the ground with a muffled boom and a great roar that was surprisingly familiar.

"Beorn!" Brie cried happily as she watched the great bear swipe out with claws and teeth, scattering orcs about him.

There was another crack from the river and Brie turned back to the fight, planting her feet, another arrow to her string, drawn back.

Thorin stepped back, off the ice floe that had been wobbling beneath him. And Azog (who for some inexplicable reason, was now holding the boulder cradled in his arms) began to slip. He faltered, dropped the stone, scrambled for purchase…and then slipped into the water, leaving nothing in his wake but the gentle sway of ice and a cold breeze. Brie tensed, her arrow still held trembling on her bow string. But he did not emerge.

Thorin stared at the spot for a long time, as if he had been frozen to the river. Then he knelt and it was as if she had been waiting for him. The tension that had been holding Brie taut released and she lowered her bow, the arrow falling from her numb, trembling fingers. She sagged back against the rocks. She could feel the blackness again, the Fading threatening to rise up and consume her. She pushed it away once more, nudged it back. Soon. But not now. She turned and began to make her careful, unsteady way down the rocks of the river bank. She would go home. She would find Gandalf, he would understand, and he would take her home. She would return to the Shire, to Hobbiton, to Bag End. She would sit in her mother's armchair, with her father's books. And she would Fade, as hobbits did, in obscurity, just a little thing, in a very wide world. Alone. As it should be.

She made it to solid ground and put a hand on the frost-covered stone, gathering her strength for the long climb down…

A pained cry. A crack. Brie felt every muscle in her body go rigid as she turned back to the river.

No. _No._

" _Thorin!"_

* * *

He heard her scream. Heard his name on her lips, frightened and angry and pained.

 _Mahal_ , he had brought her so much pain.

He shut his eyes, pressing back against the blade that he could not hold. He knew it. He wasn't strong enough. He had never been strong enough. It had been a dream, that he would ever be King under the Mountain. That he would ever be more than the exile, the disgraced prince…

The love-sick fool.

But he had held her once. He had touched her hair, had sung her songs, had even kissed her lips, just once, in frantic, desperate hope. He held these things close as he felt his strength wane, these snatches of beauty and joy that had made the journey worth this end. And she had saved him. For he might not die a king, but he would die _himself_ , whole and well and free. She had saved him. If only he could tell her. If only she knew…

" _Imkhih khul, nanginguh_ ," he breathed, his final wish…

…and then let go.

* * *

Brie watched the sword slip free, watched the blade plunge through coat and flesh and ice. She watched it as one might watch a play on a stage. Because this could not be real. And it _wasn't_ because in only a moment, just long enough for her compressed lungs to draw breath, he was up again, launching himself over and plunging his sword deep through Azog's chest. The ice began to darken with black blood. Azog was dead, and Brie did not even care about that. It was almost an afterthought as she ran across the ice, barely managing to slide to a halt as Thorin stumbled upright, only to nearly fall again, Brie's arms steadying him as he sank once more onto the ice.

"Briallen—"

"Be quiet, don't move," Brie ordered, angry at how her hands were shaking, how her thoughts were racing, at how much blood was soaking through.

"Dwalin!" she screamed, "Nori!"

"Briallen—" he tried again, his voice halting over every syllable of her name like a wince.

She did not look at him. She _would_ not. Instead, she took off her coat and began to press it over the wound in his side. When she saw his hand move toward her out of the corner of her eye, she slapped it away.

"What did I say?" she snapped, "Be still!"

" _Mahal bazg khi_ ," she heard Dwalin whisper behind her, but she did not acknowledge that.

"Help me," she commanded, "Get him to the river bank."

With Dwalin at his head and Dori at his feet, they made their careful way across the river. Brie ignored the cries of pain that slowly died away into unconsciousness. She also ignored Nori as he tried to reach out for her, hurrying ahead, scrambling up onto the rocks again, looking back up the river, where the eagles were finishing off the last of the orc reinforcements. The dwarves were too slow. They needed to be faster.

She cupped her hands around her mouth and screamed as loud as she could into the wind.

" _Beorn!_ "

The lumbering form of the bear reared up and roared in her direction. Then, quicker than should have been possible, he was leaping across the river, charging over the rocks, sliding to a stop on the bank among the ruins before Brie was even able to leap down to join the others. The dwarves shied back from the massive form, but other than a preemptive snarl, the bear did not seem interested in the dwarves in the slightest. He turned to Brie as she hit the ground and huffed at her in a not unfriendly way.

"Get him up," Brie said, pointing to the now unconscious Thorin, "Quickly now!"

Despite obvious misgivings, the dwarves obeyed, heaving Thorin up on one side of the enormous bear as Brie clambered up the other side and helped to steady him. Green Mother… there was so much blood…

"Lass," Dwalin said as the king was settled at last on the broad back, "What are you—?"

But Brie ignored him. There was no time. Instead, she leaned forward and spoke directly into the bear's ear.

"Take me to Thranduil," she said, "Hurry!"

She distantly heard the outraged protests of the dwarves she left behind, but they were too little, too late. As soon as the words were spoken, Beorn gathered himself, and leaped over the cliffside. The wind whistled in Brie's ears, and she bent her entire body over Thorin in an effort to keep him lodged in place on the bear's back as they came to a jarring halt on the side of Ravenhill. In another leap they were on the ground and racing in great loping strides across the battlefield, Beorn shoving all aside who stood in his way, heading for the city of Dale with a single-minded ferocity. He barely fit through the main gates of the city, but there was no need to go further. Elves scattered as he slid to a stop in the main courtyard and let loose a deafening roar.

As Brie scrambled to the ground and pulled Thorin down as gently as she could, she saw Thranduil gliding forward, covered in a smattering of blood and with murder in his eyes.

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded, "Why do you block our way?"

Brie gathered Thorin down into her lap and checked that her coat was still wrapped tightly about his wound. It was soaked in blood. Blood and snow and ice...

She looked up into the elf-king's eyes and for the first time in her life, Briallen Baggins begged.

"Save him," she pleaded, finally feeling the beginnings of the tears that should have started long ago, "Save him, please, I know you can."

The elf stared down at her with that unreadable aloof expression that Brie had no patience for. But she would suffer it, all of his ire, his disdain, for all eternity if need be, if he would only—

Thranduil spared a single, passing glance for the dwarf cradled in her arms. Then he turned away, his robes sweeping behind him in a majestic arc… and Briallen Baggins lost her temper.

"Thranduil, you owe me!"

The accusation echoed against the stones of the courtyard, magnified by the hush that had fallen over his people. The elf-king paused. His head turned, ever so slightly, until only a single eye, filled with contempt, locked onto her.

"What?"

Brie narrowed her eyes and did not flinch. All she could see were the wolves and the blood and the snow, taking away everything she loved, over and over...

"Do you wish me to tell them?" she asked, her voice still loud and piercing in the cold air, "Do you wish me to let the world know how Thranduil of Mirkwood treats his prisoners?"

Beorn growled beside her. Thranduil turned to face her. Ah. So now she had his attention.

"Because if he dies, on the Green Mother, I swear I will tell every living soul from here to Bywater what happened in the dungeons of Mirkwood. I will tell them all, friend and foe, any who will listen. I will spread it far and wide, to all the corners of Middle Earth if I must."

Thranduil took a menacing step toward her. Brie tightened her hold on Thorin, felt his shallow breathing and the warmth of the blood seeping through her fingers. There was no _time_ …

"Save him," she said, and this time it was not pleading, but a demand, a promise, "And I will be through with you, Thranduil. We will never speak of this again. I swear it."

There was a pause that felt like a lifetime. Then Thranduil gave her a smile that was more of a grimace than a grin.

"Call the healers," he said, turning back to his elven army, "Set up a tent, bring water and bandage!"

The elves scattered to do as he bid and Brie sagged, pressing her cheek to Thorin's chest, listening to the bare flutter of his heartbeat, the shallow intake of his breath.

 _Save him,_ she prayed to Yavanna as she let them take him away from her, _I will let you have my life. Please, save him._

* * *

 **A/N:** I know. I'm crying too. Please don't hate me...

* * *

 **Khuzdul Translations**

 _Iklifumun-_ damn!

 _Imkhih khul, nanginguh_ \- Find peace, my flower

 _Mahal bazg khi-_ Mahal curse it

 **Black Speech Translations**

 _Matubat nûkhud, dushaklaazg-_ She will die next, Oakshield.

 _Matubat-ishi shiiku agh grish-_ She will die in screams and blood.


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter Thirty-Three**

He woke in cool darkness and, at first he was confused. All his thoughts and memories were filled with the roar of battle and the warmth of blood. Was this it then? Were these the halls of his fathers? Had he been brought here in shame and this was his punishment, to be always alone and in darkness?

Something stirred beside him and when he turned his head toward the movement he could feel a tightness in his shoulder and chest. He was bound, the stretch of bandage a familiar sensation, and his muscles protested even the slight change in his position. So, he was not dead then, for surely if his injuries had followed him into death, there would be far more pain.

His eyes adjusted quickly to the dim light and he could see her, sitting on the floor, wrapped in a woolen blanket with her eyes closed, head pillowed on the side of the cot on which he lay.

Briallen.

She stirred again, brow furrowing, a single golden curl falling over her eyes. Thorin's chest constricted until he thought surely _now_ he must be dying. He couldn't seem to find air to breathe and he swallowed to dislodge the lump that had formed in his throat.

 _Thorin… please..._

 _Mahal_ , he had been such a fool. It took all of his strength, but he lifted his trembling fingers and brushed back the limp tendril of her hair. His fingers grazed the skin of her cheek and she flinched, her eyes fluttering open.

She stared at him. And then she blinked.

"Oh!" she cried, scrambling to her feet and backing away, hands held up as if to ward him off, "Oh, you're... you're awake! Oh, I have to... I'll... I'll get Oin!"

"Briallen..." he said, but his voice came out in a raspy whisper. She waved it away as she backed up, toward the tent opening.

"No, it's... I'll just... I have to get Oin, he'll... he'll want... I have to go."

And then she was gone, leaving him alone in the dark. His hand fell to the blanket and he shut his eyes. His chest was on fire, but his skin was cold. He swallowed and tried to breathe. He had been wrong. He _was_ dead. His body just hadn't caught up to what his heart already knew.

* * *

The wind was cold on Brie's face, but she didn't mind it all that much. From the overlook she could see the whole of Dale, cheery fires burning in the courtyards and the smouldering remains of the battle in the fields beyond, people scurrying about, busy as ants, shoring up walls to make buildings safe for habitation. It would be a hard winter for the Men who chose to remain here, but the Iron Hills dwarves were already working hard to make things as comfortable as could be hoped. Even the enmity with the elves seemed to have dissipated with the news that King Thranduil had worked tirelessly, and spared no expense, to see the King Under The Mountain and his heirs well tended in their injuries. It was even rumored that he had saved the dwarf-king's life.

Brie smiled a little, despite herself. Fili had shattered a leg in his fall and would walk with a limp for the rest of his life, and Kili had taken a mace blow across the face which would likely result in some unpleasant scarring. But they were alive. They were, all of them, alive. It was more than she could have hoped for. It was everything she could have wanted.

She heard the rustling of robes behind her and she buried her smile in the collar of her coat.

"Are you quite sure about this, Briallen?" Gandalf asked in that grandfatherly gruffness he had taken to using with her, "There's no need to rush. There will be feasting and celebration soon enough, and I'm sure Bard would like very much…"

Brie tuned him out as he went on about how she might be lauded and coddled and rewarded for her actions. _Rewarded_. Of all the ridiculous notions, that she should be _rewarded_ for the terrible part she had played in all this. There was only one reward she would accept, the only reward she deserved, and it waited for her back at Bag End.

The Fading. She could still feel it, a flutter of darkness when she closed her eyes, pulling at her. She didn't fear it. And there was no reason to delay anymore. Everything she had wished for was fulfilled. Everyone she cared about would be taken care of. Even Bilbo, whom she loved more than her own life, would find comfort and joy and a new life with Bofur. The Ri brothers were kind, but in time they too would forget. She would Fade from their memories, just as she would Fade from life. And as for the others…

 _...nanginguh…_

A large muzzle nudged her side, pushing away the lingering murmur, and she put a comforting hand on Beorn's neck, burying her fingers in the soft fur. His large brown eye watched her quizzically and she smiled with as much assurance as she could muster.

"No," she said, hoisting her pack more comfortably onto her shoulders, "No, I'm ready."

"Oh no you don't!"

Beorn's throat rumbled against her fingers and Brie shut her eyes, regretting for a moment that she had returned Bilbo's magic ring to him. She would very much have liked to disappear at the sound of her brother's indignant voice. She turned to see him storming furiously up the hillside, his pack haphazardly slung on his back, and two dwarves following in his wake. She shot a glare at Gandalf, who looked both unsurprised and unapologetic.

"Don't know how you expected to slip off without us," Bofur said, pulling Bilbo up short to adjust a strap on his bag, "We outlaws have to stick together, you know."

Brie rolled her eyes. "As if you would still be considered _outlaws_ after—"

" _Treason_ , sweet," Nori said, slinging an arm around her shoulders and pulling her in tight, "Dwarves don't take kindly to treason. Sure, we _might_ be granted clemency, under the circumstances, but if you think we'll ever truly be welcome in the Mountain again…" He trailed off and then shrugged. "Well, I'd rather keep company with you any day."

He winked at her, but there was a pain in his eyes that did not entirely go away. Brie felt a tug on her heart, a thread of guilt. This was her fault. He had lost his home, his brothers… Dwalin. Something had happened between the two dwarves, a rift that Brie was not sure could ever be mended. And it was all her fault.

"Well, shall we be off?" Bilbo asked, looking bright-eyed and far more eager than Brie might have expected, "We've set Ori as a distraction, but I imagine it won't be long before the others realize we're missing. I'd like to be quite on our way before th—" He stopped and seemed to substitute a word. "—any _undue_ notice is taken."

Brie looked at them all and tried to think of some way to convince them to stay, to let her go on, alone and forgotten, as she deserved. But they were all staring back at her with determined, yet cheerful expressions and she knew there would be no turning them away. She sighed and pushed her Fading a little farther back. She didn't know how long she could hold it at bay, but perhaps she could find a way to live with it. Just a little longer.

She forced a smile.

"Well," she said, "Together or not at all, right Bilbo?"

He smiled back and took her hand tightly in his.

"Together, or not at all."

And with that, the weary travelers set their sights for home.

 **...to be continued...**

* * *

 **A/N:** I know. _I know!_ *ducks flying objects* Trust me, I know! There's a sequel! " _Fading Flower, Broken Stone_ ", go read that! *flees the scene, ducking even more flying objects*


End file.
